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THE  HARVARD  ORIENTAL  SERIES 

VOLUME  NINE 


HARVARD  ORIENTAL  SERIES 

EDITED 

WITH  THE  COOPERATION  OF  VARIOUS  SCHOLARS 

BY 

CHARLES  ROCKWELL  LANMAN 

WALES  PROFESSOR  OF  SANSKRIT  IN  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 

'Volume  /l?tne 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASSACHUSETTS 

$ubit$tyeD  by  Barbara  antbettftti? 

1905 


/ 


Si  w-A  ro»\< 


r a. 


ja.V\  e>\  V\  V\< 


\‘ 


NOV  HO  1917 


THE  LITTLE  CLAY  CART 


[MRCCHAKATIKA] 

21  ^trtfcu  Drama 

ATTRIBUTED  TO  KING  SHUDRAKA 
TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  SANSKRIT  AND  PRAKRITS 
INTO  ENGLISH  PROSE  AND  VERSE 
BY 

ARTHUR  WILLIAM  RYDER,  Ph.D. 

INSTRUCTOR  IN  SANSKRIT  IN  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASSACHUSETTS 

by  l^attoarD  antfccrgtti? 

1905 


Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Boston  and  New  York 
Chicago  and  San  Francisco 
London 

Leipzig 


Publication  Agent  of  Harvard  University 
Ginn  and  Company 
Ginn  and  Company 

Ginn  and  Company,  9 St.  Martins  Street, 
Leicester  Square 

Otto  Harrassowitz,  Querstrasse,  lit 


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The  price  of  this  volume  is  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  ( $1.50).  According  to  the  conver- 
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and  70  cents  Netherlandish. 


COPYRIGHT,  1905,  BY  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 
PRINTED  BY  D.  B.  UPDIKE  AT  THE  MERRYMOUNT  PRESS 


BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS 


TO  MY  FATHER 
WILLIAM  HENRY  RYDER 


CONTENTS 


NOTE  BY  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  SERIES  ix 

PREFACE  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR  xi 

INTRODUCTION 

THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  PLAY  XV 

THE  TRANSLATION  xxiii 

AN  OUTLINE  OF  THE  PLOT  xxvi 

DRAMATIS  PERSONAE  XXX 

TRANSLATION  OF  THE  LITTLE  CLAY  CART 

PROLOGUE  1 

ACT  I.  THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND  6 

ACT  II.  THE  SHAMPOOER  WHO  GAMBLED  27 

ACT  III.  THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL  43 

ACT  IV.  MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA  57 

ACT  V.  THE  STORM  75 

ACT  VI.  THE  SWAPPING  OF  THE  BULLOCK-CARTS  93 

act  vii.  aryaka’s  ESCAPE  105 

ACT  VIII.  THE  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA  109 

ACT  IX.  THE  TRIAL  132 

ACT  X.  THE  END  153 

EPILOGUE  176 

DEPARTURES  OF  THE  TRANSLATION  FROM  PARAB’s  TEXT  177 


NOTE  BY  THE  EDITOR 


w 


ITH  the  battle  of  the  Sea  of  Japan  another  turning-point 
in  the  brief  course  of  recorded  human  history  has  been 


reached . Whatever  the  outcome  of  the  negotiations  for  peace,  one 
thing  is  sure:  for  better,  for  worse,  and  whether  we  will  or  no,  the 
W est  must  know  the  East,  and  the  East  must  know  the  W est.  With 
that  knowledge  will  inevitably  come  an  interchange  of  potent  influ- 
ences, of  influences  that  will  affect  profoundly  the  religion  and 
morals,  the  philosophy,  the  literature,  the  art,  in  short,  all  the  ele- 
ments that  make  up  the  civilizations  of  the  two  hemispheres.  It  is  a 
part  of  the  responsibility  resting  upon  the  molders  and  leaders  of 
the  thought  and  life  of  our  time,  and  upon  our  Universities  in  par- 
ticular, to  see  to  it  that  these  new  forces,  mighty  for  good  or  for  evil, 
are  directed  aright. 

The  fruitfulness  of  those  scions  of  Western  civilization  which  the 
Japanese  have  grafted  upon  their  own  stock  is  to-day  the  admiration 
of  the  world.  In  our  wonder,  let  us  not  forget  that  that  stock  is  the 
growth  of  centuries,  and  that  it  is  rooted  in  a soil  of  racial  char- 
acter informed  by  ethical  ideals  which  we  are  wont  to  regard,  with 
arrogant  self-complacency,  as  exclusively  proper  to  Christianity,  but 
which  were,  in  fact,  inculcated  twenty-four  centuries  ago  through 
precept  and  example  by  Gotama  the  Enlightened,  or,  as  the  Hindus 
called  him,  Gotama  the  Buddha.  It  has  often  been  said  that  India 
has  never  influenced  the  development  of  humanity  as  a whole.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  it  now  seems  no  less  probable  than  strange  that  she  is  yet 
destined  to  do  so,  on  the  one  hand,  indirectly,  through  the  influence 
of  Indian  Buddhism  upon  Japan,  and,  on  the  other,  directly,  by  the 
diffusion  in  the  W est  of  a knowledge  of  her  sacred  writings,  espe- 


X 


NOTE  BY  THE  EDITOR 


dally  those  of  Vedantism  and  Buddhism.  To  judge  the  East  aright, 
we  must  know  not  only  what  she  is,  hut  also  how  she  has  become  what 
she  is;  know,  in  short,  some  of  the  principal  phases  of  her  spiritual 
history  as  they  are  reflected  in  her  ancient  literature,  especially  that 
of  India.  To  interpret  to  the  West  the  thought  of  the  East,  to  bring 
her  best  and  noblest  achievements  to  bear  upon  our  life, — that  is  to- 
day the  problem  of  Oriental  philology. 

The  Harvard  Oriental  Series  embodies  an  attempt  to  present  to 
Western  scholars,  in  trustworthy  texts  and  translations,  some  of  the 
greatest  works  of  the  Hindu  literature  and  philosophy  and  religion, 
together  with  certain  instruments,  such  as  the  Vedic  Concordance 
or  the  History  of  the  Beast-fable,  for  their  critical  study  or  eluci- 
dation. Some  account  of  the  volumes  completed  or  in  progress  may 
be  found  at  the  end  of  this  book.  Dr.  Ryder,  passing  by  for  the  pre- 
sent the  more  momentous  themes  of  religion  and  philosophy,  has  in 
this  volume  attempted  to  show  what  the  Indian  genius,  in  its  strength 
and  in  its  weakness,  could  do  in  the  field  of  literature  pure  and 
simple.  The  timeliness  of  the  Series  as  a whole  is  an  eloquent  tribute 
to  the  discernment  of  my  loved  and  unforgotten  pupil  and  friend, 
Henry  Clarke  W 'irren.  In  him  were  united  not  only  the  will  and  the 
ability  to  establish  such  a publication  as  this,  but  also  the  learning 
and  insight  which  enabled  him  to  forecast  in  a general  way  its  pos- 
sibilities of  usefulness.  He  knew  that  the  East  had  many  a lesson  to 
teach  the  West;  bid  whether  the  lesson  be  repose  of  spirit  or  hygiene 
of  the  soldier  in  the  field,  whether  it  be  the  divine  immanence  or  sim- 
plicity of  life  or  the  overcoming  of  evil  with  good,  he  knew  that  the 
first  lesson  to  be  taught  us  was  the  teachable  habit  of  mind. 

C.  R.  L. 


June,  1905 


PREFACE 


THE  text  chosen  as  the  basis  of  this  translation  is  that  given 
in  the  edition  of  Parab,1  and  I have  chosen  it  for  the  follow- 
ing reasons.  Parab’s  edition  is  the  most  recent,  and  its  editor  is  a 
most  admirable  Sanskrit  scholar,  who,  it  seems  to  me,  has  in 
several  places  understood  the  real  meaning  of  the  text  better  than 
his  predecessors.  This  edition  contains  the  comment  of  Prthvi- 
dhara;  it  is  far  freer  from  misprints  than  many  texts  printed  in 
India,  and,  in  respect  to  arrangement  and  typography,  it  is  clear 
and  convenient.  Besides,  it  is  easily  obtainable  and  very  cheap.  This 
last  consideration  may  prove  to  be  of  importance,  if  the  present 
translation  should  be  found  helpful  in  the  class-room.  For  the  sake 
of  cataloguers,  I note  that  the  proper  transliteration  of  the  Sanskrit 
names  of  this  title  according  to  the  rules  laid  down  by  the  Ameri- 
can Library  Association  in  its  Journal  for  1885,  is  as  follows: 
Mrcchakatika;  Qudraka;  Prthvidhara;  Ka^inatha  Panduranga  Pa- 
raba;  Nirnaya-Sagara. 

The  verse-numeration  of  each  act  follows  the  edition  of  Parab ; 
fortunately,  it  is  almost  identical  with  the  numeration  in  the  edi- 
tions of  Godabole  and  Jlvananda.  For  the  convenience  of  those 
who  may  desire  to  consult  this  book  in  connection  with  Stenzler’s 
edition,  I have  added  references  at  the  top  of  the  page  to  that  edi- 
tion as  well  as  to  the  edition  of  Parab.  In  these  references,  the 
letter  P.  stands  for  Parab,  the  letter  S.  for  Stenzler. 

There  are  a few  passages  in  which  I have  deviated  from  Parab’s 
text.  A list  of  such  passages  is  given  on  page  177.  From  this  list 

1 The  Mrichchhakatika  of  Sudraka  with  the  commentary  of  PrithvTdhara.  Edited  by  Kashi- 
nath  Pandurang  Parab.  Bombay:  Nirnaya-Sagar  Press.  1900.  Price  1 Rupee.  It  may  be  had 
of  O.  Harrassowitz  in  Leipzig  for  2i  Marks. 


PREFACE 


xii 

I have  omitted  a few  minor  matters,  such  as  slight  misprints  and 
what  seem  to  me  to  be  errors  in  the  chaya;  these  matters,  and  the 
passages  of  unusual  interest  or  difficulty,  I shall  treat  in  a series 
of  notes  on  the  play,  which  I hope  soon  to  publish  in  the  Journal 
of  the  American  Oriental  Society.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  give 
reasons  for  the  omission  of  the  passage  inserted  by  Nllakantha 
in  the  tenth  act  (Parab,  288.3-292.9).  This  passage  is  explicitly 
declared  by  tradition  to  be  an  interpolation  by  another  hand,  and 
it  is  clearly  shown  to  be  such  by  internal  evidence.  It  will  be  noticed 
that  the  omission  of  this  passage  causes  a break  in  the  verse- 
numeration  of  the  tenth  act,  where  the  verse-number  54  is  fol- 
lowed by  the  number  58. 

Of  the  books  which  have  been  useful  to  me  in  the  present  work, 
I desire  to  mention  especially  the  editions  of  Stenzler,  Godabole, 
Jivananda  Vidyasagara,  and  Parab;  the  commentaries  of  Prthvl- 
dhara,  Lalladlksita,  and  Jivananda;  further,  the  translations  of 
Wilson,  Regnaud,  and  Bohtlingk. 

A number  of  friends  were  kind  enough  to  read  my  manuscript, 
and  each  contributed  something.  I wish  to  mention  especially  my 
friend  and  pupil,  Mr.  Walter  E.  Clark,  of  Harvard  University, 
whose  careful  reading  of  both  text  and  translation  was  fruitful  of 
many  good  suggestions. 

But  by  far  my  greatest  personal  indebtedness  is  to  Professor 
Lanman,  whose  generous  interest  in  my  work  has  never  flagged 
from  the  day  when  I began  the  study  of  Sanskrit  under  his  guid- 
ance. He  has  criticized  this  translation  with  the  utmost  rigor;  in- 
deed, the  pages  are  few  which  have  not  witnessed  some  improve- 
ment from  his  hand.  It  is  to  him  also  that  I owe  the  accuracy 
and  beauty  which  characterize  the  printed  book ; nothing  has  been 
hard  enough  to  weary  him,  nothing  small  enough  to  escape  him. 


PREFACE 


xiii 

And  more  than  all  else,  I am  grateful  to  him  for  the  opportunity 
of  publishing  in  the  Harvard  Oriental  Series ; for  this  series  is  that 
enterprise  which,  since  the  death  of  Professor  Whitney,  most 
honorably  upholds  in  this  country  the  standards  of  accurate  scholar- 
ship set  by  the  greatest  of  American  Sanskritists. 

ARTHUR  W.  RYDER 


Harvard  University 
May  23,  1905  ‘ 


INTRODUCTION 


I.  THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  PLAY 
ONCERNING  the  life,  the  date,  and  the  very  identity1  of 


King  Shiidraka,  the  reputed  author  of  The  Little  Clay  Cart, 
we  are  curiously  ignorant.  No  other  work  is  ascribed  to  him,  and 
we  have  no  direct  information  about  him,  beyond  the  somewhat 
fanciful  statements  of  the  Prologue  to  this  play.  There  are,  to  be 
sure,  many  tales  which  cluster  about  the  name  of  King  Shudraka, 
but  none  of  them  represents  him  as  an  author.  Yet  our  very  lack  of 
information  may  prove,  to  some  extent  at  least,  a disguised  bless- 
ing. For  our  ignorance  of  external  fact  compels  a closer  study  of 
the  text,  if  we  would  find  out  what  manner  of  man  it  was  who 
wrote  the  play.  And  the  case  of  King  Shudraka  is  by  no  means 
unique  in  India;  in  regard  to  every  great  Sanskrit  writer, — so  bare 
is  Sanskrit  literature  of  biography, — we  are  forced  to  concentrate 
attention  on  the  man  as  he  reveals  himself  in  his  works.  First,  how- 
ever, it  may  be  worth  while  to  compare  Shudraka  with  two  other 
great  dramatists  of  India,  and  thus  to  discover,  if  we  may,  in  what 
ways  he  excels  them  or  is  excelled  by  them. 

Kalidasa,  Shudraka,  Bhavabhuti— assuredly,  these  are  the  great- 
est names  in  the  history  of  the  Indian  drama.  So  different  are  these 
men,  and  so  great,  that  it  is  not  possible  to  assert  for  any  one  of 
them  such  supremacy  as  Shakspere  holds  in  the  English  drama. 
It  is  true  that  Kalidasa’s  dramatic  masterpiece,  the  Shakuntala, 
is  the  most  widely  known  of  the  Indian  plays.  It  is  true  that  the 
tender  and  elegant  Kalidasa  has  been  called,  with  a not  wholly  for- 

1 For  an  illuminating  discussion  of  these  matters,  the  reader  is  referred  to  Sylvain  Levi’s  ad- 
mirable work,  Le  Theatre  Indien,  Paris,  1890,  pages  196-211. 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION 


tunate  enthusiasm,  the  “Shakspere  of  India.”  But  this  rather  ex- 
clusive admiration  of  the  Shakuntala  results  from  lack  of  informa- 
tion about  the  other  great  Indian  dramas.  Indeed,  it  is  partly  due 
to  the  accident  that  only  the  Shakuntala  became  known  in  trans- 
lation at  a time  when  romantic  Europe  was  in  full  sympathy  with 
the  literature  of  India. 

Bhavabhuti,  too,  is  far  less  widely  known  than  Kalidasa ; and  for 
this  the  reason  is  deeper-seated.  The  austerity  of  Bhavabhuti  s style, 
his  lack  of  humor,  his  insistent  grandeur,  are  qualities  which  pre- 
vent his  being  a truly  popular  poet.  With  reference  to  Kalidasa, 
he  holds  a position  such  as  Aeschylus  holds  with  reference  to  Eu- 
ripides. He  will  always  seem  to  minds  that  sympathize  with  his 
grandeur1  the  greatest  of  Indian  poets;  while  by  other  equally  dis- 
cerning minds  of  another  order  he  will  be  admired,  but  not  pas- 
sionately loved. 

Yet  however  great  the  difference  between  Kalidasa,  “the  grace 
of  poetry,”2  and  Bhavabhuti,  “the  master  of  eloquence,”3  these  two 
authors  are  far  more  intimately  allied  in  spirit  than  is  either  of 
them  with  the  author  of  The  Little  Clay  Cart.  Kalidasa  and  Bhava- 
bhuti are  Hindus  of  the  Hindus ; the  Shakuntala  and  the  Latter 
Acts  of  Rama  could  have  been  written  nowhere  save  in  India: 
but  Shudraka,  alone  in  the  long  line  of  Indian  dramatists,  has  a 
cosmopolitan  character.  Shakuntala  is  a Hindu  maid,  Madhava  is 
a Hindu  hero;  but  Sansthanaka  and  Maitreya  and  Madanika  are 
citizens  of  the  world.  In  some  of  the  more  striking  characteristics  of 
Sanskrit  literature — in  its  fondness  for  system,  its  elaboration  of 
style,  its  love  of  epigram — Kalidasa  and  Bhavabhuti  are  far  truer 

1 In  his  MalatTmadhava,  i.  8,  he  says:  “Whoever  they  may  be  who  now  proclaim  their  con- 
tempt for  me,  — they  know  something,  but  this  work  was  not  for  them.  Yet  there  will  arise  a 
man  of  nature  like  mine  own ; for  time  is  endless,  and  the  world  is  wide.”  This  seems  prophetic 
of  John  Milton.  2 Prasannaraghava,  i.  22.  3 Mahavlracarita,  i.  4- 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

to  their  native  land  than  is  Shudraka.  In  Shiidraka  we  find  few 
of  those  splendid  phrases  in  which,  as  the  Chinese1  say,  “ it  is  only 
the  words  which  stop,  the  sense  goes  on,” — phrases  like  Kalidasa’s2 
“there  are  doors  of  the  inevitable  everywhere,”  or  Bhavabhuti’s 3 “for 
causeless  love  there  is  no  remedy.”  As  regards  the  predominance  of 
swift-moving  action  over  the  poetical  expression  of  great  truths, 
The  Little  Clay  Cart  stands  related  to  the  Latter  Acts  of  Rama  as 
Macbeth  does  to  Hamlet.  Again,  Shudraka’s  style  is  simple  and  di- 
rect, a rare  quality  in  a Hindu  ; and  although  this  style,  in  the  pas- 
sages of  higher  emotion,  is  of  an  exquisite  simplicity,  yet  Shudraka 
cannot  infuse  into  mere  language  the  charm  which  we  find  in  Kali- 
dasa or  the  majesty  which  we  find  in  Bhavabhuti. 

Yet  Shudraka’s  limitations  in  regard  to  stylistic  power  are  not 
without  their  compensation.  For  love  of  style  slowly  strangled  origi- 
nality and  enterprise  in  Indian  poets,  and  ultimately  proved  the 
death  of  Sanskrit  literature.  Now  just  at  this  point,  where  other 
Hindu  writers  are  wreak,  Shudraka  stands  forth  preeminent.  No- 
where else  in  the  hundreds  of  Sanskrit  dramas  do  we  find  such  va- 
riety, and  such  drawing  of  character,  as  in  The  Little  Clay  Cart ; 
and  nowhere  else,  in  the  drama  at  least,  is  there  such  humor.  Let 
us  consider,  a little  more  in  detail,  these  three  characteristics  of 
our  author;  his  variety,  his  skill  in  the  drawing  of  character,  his 
humor. 

To  gain  a rough  idea  of  Shudraka’s  variety,  we  have  only  to  re- 
call the  names  of  the  acts  of  the  play.  Here  The  Shampooer  who 
Gambled  and  The  Hole  in  the  W all  are  shortly  followed  by  The 
Storm ; and  The  Swapping  of  the  Bullock-carts  is  closely  succeeded 
by  The  Strangling  of  Vasantasena.  From  farce  to  tragedy,  from 


1 History  of  Chinese  Literature,  by  H.  A.  Giles,  pages  145-146. 

2 Shakuntala,  i.  15.  3 Latter  Acts  of  Rama,  v.  17. 


INTRODUCTION 


xviii 

satire  to  pathos,  runs  the  story,  with  a breadth  truly  Shaksperian. 
Here  we  have  philosophy: 

The  lack  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil.  (i.  If) 

And  pathos: 

My  body  wet  by  tear-drops  falling, falling ; 

My  limbs  polluted  by  the  clinging  mud; 

Flowers  from  the  graveyard  torn,  my  zvreath  appalling ; 

For  ghastly  sacrifice  hoarse  ravens  calling. 

And for  the  fragrant  incense  of  my  blood.  (x.  3) 

And  nature  description: 

But  mistress,  do  not  scold  the  lightning.  She  is  your  friend. 

This  golden  cord  that  trembles  on  the  breast 
Of  great  Airavata;  upon  the  crest 
Of  rocky  hills  this  banner  all  ablaze; 

This  lamp  in  Indr  a! s palace ; but  most  blest 
As  telling  where  your  most  beloved  stays.  (v.  33) 

And  genuine  bitterness: 

Pride  and  tricks  and  lies  and fraud 
Are  in  your  face; 

False  playground  of  the  lustful  god, 

Such  is  your face; 

The  wench's  stock  in  trade,  in  fine. 

Epitome  of  joys  divine, 

I mean  your  face  — 

For  sale!  the  price  is  courtesy. 

I trust  you  "'ll  find  a man  to  buy 

Your  face.  (v.  36) 

It  is  natural  that  Shudraka  should  choose  for  the  expression  of 
matters  so  diverse  that  type  of  drama  which  gives  the  greatest 
scope  to  the  author’s  creative  power.  This  type  is  the  so-called 


INTRODUCTION 


xix 


“drama  of  invention,”1  a category  curiously  subordinated  in  India 
to  the  heroic  drama,  the  plot  of  which  is  drawn  from  history  or 
mythology.  Indeed,  The  Little  Clay  Cart  is  the  only  extant  drama 
which  fulfils  the  spirit  of  the  drama  of  invention,  as  defined  by  the 
Sanskrit  canons  of  dramaturgy.  The  plot  of  the  “ Malati  and  Ma- 
dhava,”  or  of  the  “ Mallika  and  Maruta,”  is  in  no  true  sense  the  in- 
vention of  the  author;  and  The  Little  Clay  Cart  is  the  only  drama 
of  invention  which  is  “full  of  rascals.”2 

But  a spirit  so  powerful  as  that  of  King  Shiidraka  could  not  be 
confined  within  the  strait-jacket  of  the  minute,  and  sometimes 
puerile,  rules  of  the  technical  works.  In  the  very  title  of  the  drama, 
he  has  disregarded  the  rule3  that  the  name  of  a drama  of  invention 
should  be  formed  by  compounding  the  names  of  heroine  and  hero.4 
Again,  the  books  prescribe5  that  the  hero  shall  appear  in  every  act; 
yet  Charudatta  does  not  appear  in  acts  ii.,  iv.,  vi.,  and  viii.  And 
further,  various  characters,  Vasantasena,  Maitreya,  the  courtier, 
and  others,  have  vastly  gained  because  they  do  not  conform  too 
closely  to  the  technical  definitions. 

The  characters  of  The  Little  Clay  Cart  are  living  men  and  women. 
Even  when  the  type  makes  no  strong  appeal  to  Western  minds, 
as  in  the  case  of  Charudatta,  the  character  lives,  in  a sense  in  which 
Dushyanta6  or  even  Rama7  can  hardly  be  said  to  live.  Shudraka’s 
men  are  better  individualized  than  his  women ; this  fact  alone  dif- 
ferentiates him  sharply  from  other  Indian  dramatists.  He  draws 
on  every  class  of  society,  from  the  high-souled  Brahman  to  the 
executioner  and  the  housemaid. 

His  greatest  character  is  unquestionably  Sansthanaka,  this  com- 

1 Prakarana.  2 Dhurtasamkula : Da^arupa,  iii.  38.  3 Sahityadarpana,  428. 

4 As  in  Malati-madhava.  5 Daearupa,  iii.  33.  6 In  Kalidasa's  Shakuntala. 

7 In  Bhavabhuti's  Latter  Acts  of  Rama. 


XX 


INTRODUCTION 


bination  of  ignorant  conceit,  brutal  lust,  and  cunning,  this  greater 
than  Cloten,  who,  after  strangling  an  innocent  woman,  can  say:1 
“Oh,  come!  Let’s  go  and  play  in  the  pond.’’  Most  attractive  char- 
acters are  the  five2  conspirators,  men  whose  home  is  “east  of  Suez 
and  the  ten  commandments.”  They  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  ready 
at  any  moment  to  steal  a gem-casket  or  to  take  part  in  a revolution, 
and  preserving  through  it  all  their  character  as  gentlemen  and  their 
irresistible  conceit.  And  side  by  side  with  them  moves  the  hero 
Charudatta,  the  Buddhist  beau-ideal  of  manhood, 

A tree  of  life  to  them  whose  sorrows  grow. 

Beneath  its  fruit  of  virtue  bending  low.  (i.  Jf) 

To  him,  life  itself  is  not  dear,  but  only  honor.3  He  values  wealth 
only  as  it  supplies  him  with  the  means  of  serving  others.  We  may, 
with  some  justice,  compare  him  with  Antonio  in  The  Merchant 
of  Venice.  There  is  some  inconsistency,  from  our  point  of  view, 
in  making  such  a character  the  hero  of  a love-drama ; and  indeed, 
it  is  Vasantasena  who  does  most  of  the  love-making.4 

Vasantasena  is  a character  with  neither  the  girlish  charm  of 
Shakuntala5  nor  the  mature  womanly  dignity  of  Slta.6  She  is 
more  admirable  than  lovable.  Witty  and  wise  she  is,  and  in  her 
love  as  true  as  steel;  this  too,  in  a social  position  which  makes  such 
constancy  difficult.  Yet  she  cannot  be  called  a great  character;  she 
does  not  seem  so  true  to  life  as  her  clever  maid,  Madanika.  In 
making  the  heroine  of  his  play  a courtezan,  Shudraka  follows  a 
suggestion  of  the  technical  works  on  the  drama;  he  does  not 
thereby  cast  any  imputation  of  ill  on  Vasantasena’s  character.  The 
courtezan  class  in  India  corresponded  roughly  to  the  hetseree  of 

1 See  page  188.  2 Aryaka,  Darduraka,  Chandanaka,  Sharvilaka,  and  the  courtier. 

3 See  x.  27.  < See  v.  46  and  the  following  stage-direction. 

6 In  Kalidasa's  play  of  that  name.  6 In  Bhavabhuti’s  Latter  Acts  of  Rama. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxi 


ancient  Greece  or  the  geishas  of  Japan;  it  was  possible  to  be  a 
courtezan  and  retain  one’s  self-respect.  Yet  the  inherited1  way  of 
life  proves  distasteful  to  Vasantasena;  her  one  desire  is  to  escape 
its  limitations  and  its  dangers  by  becoming  a legal  wife.2 

In  Maitreya,  the  Vidushaka,  we  find  an  instance  of  our  author’s 
masterly  skill  in  giving  life  to  the  dry  bones  of  a rhetorical  defini- 
tion. The  Vidushaka  is  a stock  character  who  has  something  in 
common  with  a jester ; and  in  Maitreya  the  essential  traits  of  the 
character — eagerness  for  good  food  and  other  creature  comforts, 
and  blundering  devotion  to  his  friend — are  retained,  to  be  sure, 
but  clarified  and  elevated  by  his  quaint  humor  and  his  readiness 
to  follow  Charudatta  even  in  death.  The  grosser  traits  of  the  typi- 
cal Vidushaka  are  lacking.  Maitreya  is  neither  a glutton  nor  a fool, 
but  a simple-minded,  whole-hearted  friend. 

The  courtier  is  another  character  suggested  by  the  technical 
works,  and  transformed  by  the  genius  of  Shudraka.  He  is  a man 
not  only  of  education  and  social  refinement,  but  also  of  real  no- 
bility of  nature.  But  he  is  in  a false  position  from  the  first,  this 
true  gentleman  at  the  wretched  court  of  King  Palaka;  at  last  he 
finds  the  courage  to  break  away,  and  risks  life,  and  all  that  makes 
life  attractive,  by  backing  Aryaka.  Of  all  the  conspirators,  it  is  he 
who  runs  the  greatest  risk.  To  his  protection  of  Vasantasena  is 
added  a touch  of  infinite  pathos  when  we  remember  that  he  was 
himself  in  love  with  her.3  Only  when  Vasantasena  leaves  him4  with- 
out a thought,  to  enter  Charudatta’s  house,  does  he  realize  how 
much  he  loves  her;  then,  indeed,  he  breaks  forth  in  words  of  the 
most  passionate  jealousy.  We  need  not  linger  over  the  other  char- 
acters, except  to  observe  that  each  has  his  marked  individuality, 

1 See  viii.  43.  2 See  pages  65-66  and  page  174. 

3 See  viii.  38;  and  compare  the  words,  “Yet  love  bids  me  prattle,”  on  page  86. 


4 Page  87. 


XXII 


INTRODUCTION 


and  that  each  helps  to  make  vivid  this  picture  of  a society  that 
seems  at  first  so  remote. 

Shudraka’s  humor  is  the  third  of  his  vitally  distinguishing  quali- 
ties. This  humor  has  an  American  flavor,  both  in  its  puns  and  in 
its  situations.  The  plays  on  words  can  seldom  be  adequately  re- 
produced in  translation,  but  the  situations  are  independent  of 
language.  And  Shudraka’s  humor  runs  the  whole  gamut,  from  grim 
to  farcical,  from  satirical  to  quaint.  Its  variety  and  keenness  are 
such  that  King  Shudraka  need  not  fear  a comparison  with  the 
greatest  of  Occidental  writers  of  comedies. 

It  remains  to  say  a word  about  the  construction  of  the  play. 
Obviously,  it  is  too  long.  More  than  this,  the  main  action  halts 
through  acts  ii.  to  v.,  and  during  these  episodic  acts  we  almost 
forget  that  the  main  plot  concerns  the  love  of  Vasantasena  and 
Charudatta.  Indeed,  we  have  in  The  Little  Clay  Cart  the  material 
for  two  plays.  The  larger  part  of  act  i.  forms  with  acts  vi.  to  x.  a 
consistent  and  ingenious  plot ; while  the  remainder  of  act  i.  might 
be  combined  with  acts  iii.  to  v.  to  make  a pleasing  comedy  of 
lighter  tone.  The  second  act,  clever  as  it  is,  has  little  real  connec- 
tion either  with  the  main  plot  or  with  the  story  of  the  gems.  The 
breadth  of  treatment  which  is  observable  in  this  play  is  found  in 
many  other  specimens  of  the  Sanskrit  drama,  which  has  set  itself 
an  ideal  different  from  that  of  our  own  drama.  The  lack  of  dra- 
matic unity  and  consistency  is  often  compensated,  indeed,  by 
lyrical  beauty  and  charms  of  style;  but  it  suggests  the  question 
whether  we  might  not  more  j ustly  speak  of  the  Sanskrit  plays  as 
dramatic  poems  than  as  dramas.  In  The  Little  Clay  Cart,  at  any 
rate,  we  could  ill  afford  to  spare  a single  scene,  even  though  the 
very  richness  and  variety  of  the  play  remove  it  from  the  class  of 
the  world’s  greatest  dramas. 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

n.  THE  TRANSLATION 

The  following  translation  is  sufficiently  different  from  previous 
translations  of  Indian  plays  to  require  a word  of  explanation.  The 
difference  consists  chiefly  in  the  manner  in  which  I have  endea- 
vored to  preserve  the  form  of  the  original.  The  Indian  plays  are 
written  in  mingled  prose  and  verse;  and  the  verse  portion  forms 
so  large  a part  of  the  whole  that  the  manner  in  which  it  is  ren- 
dered is  of  much  importance.  Now  this  verse  is  not  analogous  to 
the  iambic  trimeter  of  Sophocles  or  the  blank  verse  of  Shakspere, 
but  roughly  corresponds  to  the  Greek  choruses  or  the  occasional 
rhymed  songs  of  the  Elizabethan  stage.  In  other  words,  the  verse 
portion  of  a Sanskrit  drama  is  not  narrative;  it  is  sometimes  de- 
scriptive, but  more  commonly  lyrical:  each  stanza  sums  up  the 
emotional  impression  which  the  preceding  action  or  dialogue  has 
made  upon  one  of  the  actors.  Such  matter  is  in  English  cast  into 
the  form  of  the  rhymed  stanza;  and  so,  although  rhymed  verse  is 
very  rarely  employed  in  classical  Sanskrit,  it  seems  the  most  ap- 
propriate vehicle  for  the  translation  of  the  stanzas  of  a Sanskrit 
drama.  It  is  true  that  we  occasionally  find  stanzas  which  might 
fitly  be  rendered  in  English  blank  verse,  and,  more  frequently, 
stanzas  which  are  so  prosaic  as  not  to  deserve  a rendering  in  Eng- 
lish verse  at  all.1  But,  as  the  present  translation  may  be  regarded 
as  in  some  sort  an  experiment,  I have  preferred  to  hold  rigidly  to 
the  distinction  found  in  the  original  between  simple  prose  and 
types  of  stanza  which  seem  to  me  to  correspond  to  English  rhymed 
verse. 

It  is  obvious  that  a translation  into  verse,  and  especially  into 
rhymed  verse,  cannot  be  as  literal  as  a translation  into  prose ; this 


1 Stanzas  of  the  latter  sort  in  The  Little  Clay  Cart  are  vii.  2 and  viii.  5. 


XXIV 


INTRODUCTION 


disadvantage  I have  used  my  best  pains  to  minimize.  I hope  it 
may  be  said  that  nothing  of  real  moment  has  been  omitted  from 
the  verses;  and  where  lack  of  metrical  skill  has  compelled  ex- 
pansion, I have  striven  to  make  the  additions  as  insignificant  as 
possible. 

There  is  another  point,  however,  in  which  it  is  hardly  feasible 
to  imitate  the  original;  this  is  the  difference  in  the  dialects  used 
by  the  various  characters.  In  The  Little  Clay  Cart,  as  in  other 
Indian  dramas,  some  of  the  characters  speak  Sanskrit,  others  Pra- 
krit. Now  Prakrit  is  the  generic  name  for  a number  of  dialects 
derived  from  the  Sanskrit  and  closely  akin  to  it.  The  inferior  per- 
sonages of  an  Indian  play,  and,  with  rare  exceptions,  all  the 
women,  speak  one  or  another  of  these  Prakrits.  Of  the  thirty 
characters  of  this  play,  for  example,  only  five  (Charudatta,  the 
courtier,  Aryaka,  Sharvilaka,  and  the  judge)  speak  Sanskrit;1  the 
others  speak  various  Prakrit  dialects.  Only  in  the  case  of  San- 
sthanaka  have  I made  a rude  attempt  to  suggest  the  dialect  by 
substituting  sh  for  s as  he  does.  And  the  grandiloquence  of  Shar- 
vilaka’s  Sanskrit  in  the  satirical  portion  of  the  third  act  I have 
endeavored  to  imitate. 

Whenever  the  language  of  the  original  is  at  all  technical,  the 
translator  labors  under  peculiar  difficulty.  Thus  the  legal  terms 
found  in  the  ninth  act  are  inadequately  rendered,  and,  to  some  ex- 
tent at  least,  inevitably  so ; for  the  legal  forms,  or  lack  of  forms, 
pictured  there  were  never  contemplated  by  the  makers  of  the  Eng- 
lish legal  vocabulary.  It  may  be  added  here  that  in  rendering  from  a 
literature  so  artificial  as  the  Sanskrit,  one  must  lose  not  only  the 
sensuous  beauty  of  the  verse,  but  also  many  plays  on  words. 

In  regard  to  the  not  infrequent  repetitions  found  in  the  text,  I 

1 This  statement  requires  a slight  limitation ; compare,  for  example,  the  footnote  to  page  82. 


INTRODUCTION 


XXV 


have  used  my  best  judgment.  Such  repetitions  have  been  given  in 
full  where  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  force  or  unity  of  the  passage 
gained  by  such  treatment,  or  where  the  original  repeats  in  full,  as 
in  the  case  of  v.  7,  which  is  identical  with  iii.  29.  Elsewhere,  I have 
merely  indicated  the  repetition  after  the  manner  of  the  original. 

The  reader  will  notice  that  there  was  little  effort  to  attain  real- 
ism in  the  presentation  of  an  Indian  play.  He  need  not  be  sur- 
prised therefore  to  find  (page  145)  that  Viraka  leaves  the  court- 
room, mounts  a horse,  rides  to  the  suburbs,  makes  an  investiga- 
tion and  returns — all  within  the  limits  of  a stage-direction.  The 
simplicity  of  presentation  also  makes  possible  sudden  shifts  of 
scene.  In  the  first  act,  for  example,  there  are  six  scenes,  which  take 
place  alternately  in  Charudatta’s  house  and  in  the  street  outside. 
In  those  cases  where  a character  enters  “seated  ” or  “asleep,”  I have 
substituted  the  verb  “appear”  for  the  verb  “enter”;  yet  I am  not 
sure  that  this  concession  to  realism  is  wise. 

The  system  of  transliteration  which  I have  adopted  is  intended 
to  render  the  pronunciation  of  proper  names  as  simple  as  may  be 
to  the  English  reader.  The  consonants  are  to  be  pronounced  as  in 
English,1  the  vowels  as  in  Italian.  Diacritical  marks  have  been 
avoided,  with  the  exception  of  the  macron.  This  sign  has  been  used 
consistently2  to  mark  long  vowels  except  e and  o,  which  are  always 
long.  Three  rules  suffice  for  the  placing  of  the  accent.  A long  pe- 
nult is  accented : Maitreya,  Charudatta.  If  the  penult  is  short,  the 
antepenult  is  accented  provided  it  be  long:  Sansthanaka.  If  both 
penult  and  antepenult  of  a four-syllabled  word  are  short,  the  pre- 
antepenultimate  receives  the  accent:  Madanika,  Sthivaraka. 

1 But  the  combination  th  should  be  pronounced  as  in  ant-hill,  not  as  in  thin  or  this ; similarly 
dh  as  in  mad-house  ; hh  as  in  abhor. 

2 Except  in  the  names  Aryaka  and  AhTnta,  where  typographical  considerations  have  led  to  the 
omission  of  the  macron  over  the  initial  letter ; and  except  also  in  head-lines. 


XXVI 


INTRODUCTION 


in.  AN  OUTLINE  OF  THE  PLOT 

Act  I.,  entitled  The  Gems  are  left  Behind . Evening  of  the  first 
day. — After  the  prologue,  Charudatta,  who  is  within  his  house, 
converses  with  his  friend  Maitreya,  and  deplores  his  poverty. 
While  they  are  speaking,  Vasantasena  appears  in  the  street  outside. 
She  is  pursued  by  the  courtier  and  Sansthanaka ; the  latter  makes 
her  degrading  offers  of  his  love,  which  she  indignantly  rejects. 
Charudatta  sends  Maitreya  from  the  house  to  offer  sacrifice,  and 
through  the  open  door  Vasantasena  slips  unobserved  into  the 
house.  Maitreya  returns  after  an  altercation  with  Sansthanaka,  and 
recognizes  Vasantasena.  Vasantasena  leaves  a casket  of  gems  in  the 
house  for  safe  keeping  and  returns  to  her  home. 

Act  II.,  entitled  The  Shampooer  who  Gambled.  Second  day. — 
The  act  opens  in  Vasantasena’s  house.  Vasantasena  confesses  to  her 
maid  Madanika  her  love  for  Charudatta.  Then  a shampooer  appears 
in  the  street,  pursued  by  the  gambling-master  and  a gambler,  who 
demand  of  him  ten  gold-pieces  which  he  has  lost  in  the  gambling- 
house.  At  this  point  Darduraka  enters,  and  engages  the  gambling- 
master  and  the  gambler  in  an  angry  discussion,  during  which  the 
shampooer  escapes  into  Vasantasena’s  house.  When  Vasantasena 
learns  that  the  shampooer  had  once  served  Charudatta,  she  pays  his 
debt;  the  grateful  shampooer  resolves  to  turn  monk.  As  he  leaves 
the  house  he  is  attacked  by  a runaway  elephant,  and  saved  by 
Karnapuraka,  a servant  of  Vasantasena. 

Act  III.,  entitled  The  Hole  in  the  Wall.  The  night  following  the 
second  day. — Charudatta  and  Maitreya  return  home  after  mid- 
night from  a concert,  and  go  to  sleep.  Maitreya  has  in  his  hand  the 
gem-casket  which  Vasantasena  has  left  behind.  Sharvilaka  enters. 
He  is  in  love  with  Madanika,  a maid  of  Vasantasena’s,  and  is  re- 


INTRODUCTION 


XXVI] 


solved  to  acquire  by  theft  the  means  of  buying  her  freedom.  He 
makes  a hole  in  the  wall  of  the  house,  enters,  and  steals  the  casket 
of  gems  which  Yasantasena  had  left.  Charudatta  wakes  to  find 
casket  and  thief  gone.  His  wife  gives  him  her  pearl  necklace  with 
which  to  make  restitution. 

Act  IV.,  entitled  Madanika  and  Sharvilaka.  Third  day. — Shar- 
vilaka  comes  to  Yasantasena s house  to  buy  Madanika’s  freedom. 
Yasantasena  overhears  the  facts  concerning  the  theft  of  her  gem- 
casket  from  Charudatta’s  house,  but  accepts  the  casket,  and  gives 
Madanika  her  freedom.  As  Sharvilaka  leaves  the  house,  he  hears 
that  his  friend  Aryaka,  who  had  been  imprisoned  by  the  king,  has 
escaped  and  is  being  pursued.  Sharvilaka  departs  to  help  him. 
Maitreya  comes  from  Charudatta  with  the  pearl  necklace,  to  repay 
Vasantasena  for  the  gem-casket.  She  accepts  the  necklace  also,  as 
giving  her  an  excuse  for  a visit  to  Charudatta. 

Act  V.,  entitled  The  Storm.  Evening  of  the  third  day. — Cha- 
rudatta appears  in  the  garden  of  his  house.  Here  he  receives  a ser- 
vant of  Yasantasena,  who  announces  that  Vasantasena  is  on  her 
way  to  visit  him.  Yasantasena  then  appears  in  the  street  with  the 
courtier ; the  two  describe  alternately  the  violence  and  beauty  of  the 
storm  which  has  suddenly  arisen.  Vasantasena  dismisses  the  cour- 
tier, enters  the  garden,  and  explains  to  Charudatta  how  she  has 
again  come  into  possession  of  the  gem-casket.  Meanwhile,  the  storm 
has  so  increased  in  violence  that  she  is  compelled  to  spend  the  night 
at  Charudatta’s  house. 

Act  VI.,  entitled  The  Swapping  of  the  Bullock-carts.  Morning  of 
the  fourth  day.  —Here  she  meets  Charudatta’s  little  son,  Rohasena. 
The  boy  is  peevish  because  he  can  now  have  only  a little  clay  cart 
to  play  with,  instead  of  finer  toys.  Vasantasena  gives  him  her 
gems  to  buy  a toy  cart  of  gold.  Charudatta’s  servant  drives  up  to 


INTRODUCTION 


xxviii 

take  Vasantasena  in  Charudatta’s  bullock-cart  to  the  park,  where 
she  is  to  meet  Charudatta ; but  while  Vasantasena  is  making  ready, 
he  drives  away  to  get  a cushion.  Then  Sansthanaka’s  servant  drives 
up  with  his  master’s  cart,  which  Vasantasena  enters  by  mistake. 
Soon  after,  Charudatta’s  servant  returns  with  his  cart.  Then  the 
escaped  prisoner  Aryaka  appears  and  enters  Charudatta’s  cart. 
Two  policemen  come  on  the  scene;  they  are  searching  for  Aryaka. 
One  of  them  looks  into  the  cart  and  discovers  Aryaka,  but  agrees 
to  protect  him.  This  he  does  by  deceiving  and  finally  maltreating 
his  companion. 

Act  VII.,  entitled  Aryaka  s Escape . Fourth  day. — Charudatta 
is  awaiting  Vasantasena  in  the  park.  His  cart,  in  which  Aryaka  lies 
hidden,  appears.  Charudatta  discovers  the  fugitive,  removes  his 
fetters,  lends  him  the  cart,  and  leaves  the  park. 

Act  VIII.,  entitled  The  Strangling  of  Vasantasena.  Fourth 
day. — A Buddhist  monk,  the  shampooer  of  the  second  act,  enters 
the  park.  He  has  difficulty  in  escaping  from  Sansthanaka,  who 
appears  with  the  courtier.  Sansthanaka’s  servant  drives  in  with  the 
cart  which  Vasantasena  had  entered  by  mistake.  She  is  discovered 
by  Sansthanaka,  who  pursues  her  with  insulting  offers  of  love. 
When  she  repulses  him,  Sansthanaka  gets  rid  of  all  witnesses, 
strangles  her,  and  leaves  her  for  dead.  The  Buddhist  monk  enters 
again,  revives  Vasantasena,  and  conducts  her  to  a monastery. 

Act  IX.,  entitled  The  Trial.  Fifth  day. — Sansthanaka  accuses 
Charudatta  of  murdering  Vasantasena  for  her  money.  In  the  course 
of  the  trial,  it  appears  that  Vasantasena  had  spent  the  night  of  the 
storm  at  Charudatta’s  house;  that  she  had  left  the  house  the  next 
morning  to  meet  Charudatta  in  the  park;  that  there  had  been  a 
struggle  in  the  park,  which  apparently  ended  in  the  murder  of  a 
woman.  Charudatta’s  friend,  Maitreya,  enters  with  the  gems  which 


INTRODUCTION 


XXIX 


Vasantasena  had  left  to  buy  Charudatta’s  son  a toy  cart  of  gold. 
These  gems  fall  to  the  floor  during  a scuffle  between  Maitreya  and 
Sansthanaka.  In  view  of  Charudatta’s  poverty,  this  seems  to  esta- 
blish the  motive  for  the  crime,  and  Charudatta  is  condemned  to 
death. 

Act  X.,  entitled  The  End.  Sixth  day. — Two  headsmen  are  con- 
ducting Charudatta  to  the  place  of  execution.  Charudatta  takes 
his  last  leave  of  his  son  and  his  friend  Maitreya.  But  Sansthanaka’ s 
servant  escapes  from  confinement  and  betrays  the  truth ; yet  he  is 
not  believed,  owing  to  the  cunning  displayed  by  his  master.  The 
headsmen  are  preparing  to  execute  Charudatta,  when  Vasantasena 
herself  appears  upon  the  scene,  accompanied  by  the  Buddhist 
monk.  Her  appearance  puts  a summary  end  to  the  proceedings. 
Then  news  is  brought  that  Aryaka  has  killed  and  supplanted  the 
former  king,  that  he  wishes  to  reward  Charudatta,  and  that  he  has 
by  royal  edict  freed  Vasantasena  from  the  necessity  of  living  as  a 
courtezan.  Sansthanaka  is  brought  before  Charudatta  for  sentence, 
but  is  pardoned  by  the  man  whom  he  had  so  grievously  injured. 
The  play  ends  with  the  usual  Epilogue. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 


Charudatta,  a Brahman  merchant 
Rohasena,  his  son 
Maitreya,  his  friend 
Vardhamanaka,  a servant  in  his  house 

Sansthanaka,  brother-in-law  <f  King  Palaka 
Sthavaraka,  his  servant 
Another  Servant  of  Saxsthaxaka 

A Courtier 

Aryaka,  a herdsman  who  becomes  king 
Sharvilaka,  a Brahman,  in  love  with  Madaxika 

A Shampooer , who  becomes  a Buddhist  monk 
Mathura,  a gambling-master 
Darduraka,  a gambler 
Another  Gambler 

Karnafuraka 


}-  headsmen 
Ahinta  J 

Bastard  pages,  in  Vasantasena’s  house 
A Judge,  a Gild-warden,  a Clerk,  and  a Beadle 

Vasantasena,  a courtezan 
Her  Mother 

Madaxika,  maid  to  Vasantasena 
Another  Maid  to  Vasantasena 

The  Wife  of  Charudatta 

Radanika,  a maid  in  Charudatta’s  house 


KumbhIlaka 
VJraka 
Chandanaka 
Goha  'l 


policemen 


SCENE 

Ujjayini  ( called  also  Avanti)  aiul  its  Environs 


THE  LITTLE  CLAY  CART 

V 

PROLOGUE 

Benediction  upon  the  audience 

HIS  bended  knees  the  knotted  girdle  holds, 
Fashioned  by  doubling  of  a serpent’s  folds; 

His  sensive  organs,  so  he  checks  his  breath, 

Are  numbed,  till  consciousness  seems  sunk  in  death; 
Within  himself,  with  eye  of  truth,  he  sees 
The  All-soul,  free  from  all  activities. 

May  His,  may  Shiva’s  meditation  be 
Your  strong  defense;  on  the  Great  Self  thinks  he, 
Knowing  full  well  the  world’s  vacuity.  1 

And  again: 

May  Shiva’s  neck  shield  you  from  every  harm, 

That  seems  a threatening  thunder-cloud,  whereon, 
Bright  as  the  hghtning-flash,  lies  Gauri’s  arm.  2 

Stage-director.  Enough  of  this  tedious  work,  which  fritters  away 
the  interest  of  the  audience ! Let  me  then  most  reverently  salute 
the  honorable  gentlemen,  and  announce  our  intention  to  produce 
a drama  called  “The  Little  Clay  Cart.”  Its  author  was  a man 

Who  vied  with  elephants  in  lordly  grace; 

Whose  eyes  were  those  of  the  chakora  bird 
That  feeds  on  moonbeams;  glorious  his  face 
As  the  full  moon ; his  person,  all  have  heard. 

Was  altogether  lovely.  First  in  worth 

Among  the  twice-born  was  this  poet,  known 
As  Shudraka  far  over  all  the  earth, — 

His  virtue’s  depth  unfathomed  and  alone. 


3 


2 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[1.14  S. 


And  again: 

The  Samaveda,  the  Rigveda  too, 

The  science  mathematical,  he  knew; 

The  arts  wherein  fair  courtezans  excel, 

And  all  the  lore  of  elephants  as  well. 

Through  Shiva’s  grace,  his  eye  was  never  dim; 

He  saw  his  son  a king  in  place  of  him. 

The  difficult  horse-sacrifice  he  tried 
Successfully ; entered  the  fiery  tide, 

One  hundred  years  and  ten  days  old,  and  died.  4 

And  yet  again : 

Eager  for  battle;  sloth’s  determined  foe; 

Of  scholars  chief,  who  to  the  Veda  cling ; 

Rich  in  the  riches  that  ascetics  know; 

Glad,  gainst  the  foeman’s  elephant  to  show 

His  valor; — such  was  Shudraka,  the  king.  5 

And  in  this  work  of  his, 

Within  the  town,  Avanti  named, 

Dwells  one  called  Charudatta,  famed 
No  less  for  youth  than  poverty; 

A merchant’s  son  and  Brahman,  he. 

His  virtues  have  the  power  to  move 
Vasantasena  s inmost  love ; 

Fair  as  the  springtime’s  radiancy, 

And  yet  a courtezan  is  she.  6 

So  here  king  Shudraka  the  tale  imparts 
Of  love’s  pure  festival  in  these  two  hearts. 

Of  prudent  acts,  a lawsuit’s  wrong  and  hate, 

A rascal’s  nature,  and  the  course  of  fate.  7 

[He  walks  about  and  looks  around  him. ] Why,  this  music-room  of 
ours  is  empty.  I wonder  where  the  actors  have  gone.  [ Reflecting .] 
Ah,  I understand. 


P.  4.7] 


PROLOGUE 


3 


Empty  his  house,  to  whom  no  child  was  born; 

Thrice  empty  his,  who  lacks  true  friends  and  sure; 

To  fools,  the  world  is  empty  and  forlorn; 

But  all  that  is,  is  empty  to  the  poor.  8 

I have  finished  the  concert.  And  I ’ve  been  practising  so  long  that 
the  pupils  of  my  eyes  are  dancing,  and  I ’m  so  hungry  that  my  eyes 
are  crackling  like  a lotus-seed,  dried  up  by  the  fiercest  rays  of  the 
summer  sun.  I’ll  just  call  my  wife  and  ask  whether  there  is  any- 
thing for  breakfast  or  not. 

Hello!  here  I am — but  no!  Both  the  particular  occasion  and  the 
general  custom  demand  that  I speak  Prakrit.  [Speaking in  Prakrit.] 
Confound  it ! I Ve  been  practising  so  long  and  I ’m  so  hungry  that 
my  limbs  are  as  weak  as  dried-up  lotus-stalks.  Suppose  I go  home 
and  see  whether  my  good  wife  has  got  anything  ready  or  not.  [He 
walks  about  and  looks  around  him.]  Here  I am  at  home.  I’ll  just  go 
in.  [He  enters  and  looks  about.] Merciful  heavens ! Why  in  the  world 
is  everything  in  our  house  turned  upside  down  ? A long  stream  of 
rice-water  is  flowing  down  the  street.  The  ground,  spotted  black 
where  the  iron  kettle  has  been  rubbed  clean,  is  as  lovely  as  a girl 
with  the  beauty-marks  of  black  cosmetic  on  her  face.  It  smells  so 
good  that  my  hunger  seems  to  blaze  up  and  hurts  me  more  than 
ever.  Has  some  hidden  treasure  come  to  light?  or  am  I hungry 
enough  to  think  the  whole  world  is  made  of  rice?  There  surely  isn’t 
any  breakfast  in  our  house,  and  I ’m  starved  to  death.  But  every- 
thing seems  topsyturvy  here.  One  girl  is  preparing  cosmetics,  an- 
other is  weaving  garlands  of  flowers.  [Reflecting.]  What  does  it  all 
mean?  Well,  I’ll  call  my  good  wife  and  learn  the  truth.  [He  looks 
toward  the  dressing-room.]  Mistress,  will  you  come  here  a mo- 
ment? 

[Enter  an  actress.] 

Actress.  Here  I am,  sir. 

Director.  You  are  very  welcome,  mistress. 

Actress.  Command  me,  sir.  What  am  I to  do? 


4 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[3.8  S. 


Director.  Mistress,  I ’ve  been  practising  so  long  and  I ’m  so  hungry 
that  my  limbs  are  as  weak  as  dried-up  lotus-stalks.  Is  there  any- 
thing to  eat  in  the  house  or  not? 

Actress.  There’s  everything,  sir. 

Director.  Well,  what? 

Actress.  For  instance — there’s  rice  writh  sugar,  melted  butter,  cur- 
dled milk,  rice;  and,  all  together,  it  makes  you  a dish  fit  for 
heaven.  May  the  gods  always  be  thus  gracious  to  you! 

Director.  All  that  in  our  house?  or  are  you  joking? 

Actress.  [Aside.]  Yes,  I will  have  my  joke.  [Aloud.]  It’s  in  the 
market-place,  sir. 

Director.  [Angrily.]  You  wretched  woman,  thus  shall  your  own 
hope  be  cut  off!  And  death  shall  find  you  out!  For  my  expecta- 
tions, like  a scaffolding,  have  been  raised  so  high,  only  to  fall  again. 
Actress.  Forgive  me,  sir,  forgive  me!  It  was  only  a joke. 
Director.  But  what  do  these  unusual  preparations  mean?  One  girl 
is  preparing  cosmetics,  another  is  weaving  garlands,  and  the  very 
ground  is  adorned  with  sacrificial  flowers  of  five  different  colors. 
Actress.  This  is  a fast  day,  sir. 

Director.  What  fast? 

Actress.  The  fast  for  a handsome  husband. 

Director.  In  this  world,  mistress,  or  the  next? 

Actress.  In  the  next  world,  sir. 

Director.  [Wrathfully.]  Gentlemen!  look  at  this.  She  is  sacrificing 
my  food  to  get  herself  a husband  in  the  next  world. 

Actress.  Don’t  be  angry,  sir.  I am  fasting  in  the  hope  that  you 
may  be  my  husband  in  my  next  birth,  too. 

Director.  But  who  suggested  this  fast  to  you  ? 

Actress.  Your  own  dear  friend  Jurnavriddha. 

Director.  [Angrily.]  Ah,  Jurnavriddha,  son  of  a slave-wench! 
When,  oh,  when  shall  I see  King  Palaka  angry  with  you  ? Then 


P.  8.10] 


PROLOGUE 


5 


you  will  be  parted,  as  surely  as  the  scented  hair  of  some  young 
bride. 

Actress.  Don’t  be  angry,  sir.  It  is  only  that  I may  have  you  in  the 
next  world  that  I celebrate  this  fast.  [She  falls  at  his  feet.  ] 
Director.  Stand  up,  mistress,  and  tell  me  who  is  to  officiate  at  this 
fast. 

Actress.  Some  Brahman  of  our  own  sort  whom  we  must  invite. 
Director.  You  may  go  then.  And  I will  invite  some  Brahman  of 
our  own  sort. 

Actress.  Very  well,  sir.  [Exit. 

Director.  [Walking  about. ] Good  heavens!  In  this  rich  city  of 
Ujjayini  how  am  I to  find  a Brahman  of  our  own  sort?  [He  looks 
about  him .]  Ah,  here  comes  Charudatta’s  friend  Maitreya.  Good ! 
I'll  ask  him.  Maitreya,  you  must  be  the  first  to  break  bread  in 
our  house  to-day. 

A voice  behind  the  scenes.  You  must  invite  some  other  Brahman. 
I am  busy. 

Director.  But,  man,  the  feast  is  set  and  you  have  it  all  to  your- 
self. Besides,  you  shall  have  a present. 

The  voice.  I said  no  once.  Why  should  you  keep  on  urging  me? 
Director.  He  says  no.  Well,  I must  invite  some  other  Brahman. 

[Exit. 


END  OF  THE  PROLOGUE 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 

¥ 

[Enter,  with  a cloak  in  his  hand,  Maitreya. ] 

Maitreya. 

YOU  must  invite  some  other  Brahman.  I am  busy.”  And  yet 
I really  ought  to  be  seeking  invitations  from  a stranger.  Oh, 
what  a wretched  state  of  affairs ! When  good  Charudatta  was  still 
wealthy,  I used  to  eat  my  fill  of  the  most  deliciously  fragrant 
sweetmeats,  prepared  day  and  night  with  the  greatest  of  care.  I 
would  sit  at  the  door  of  the  courtyard,  where  I wras  surrounded  by 
hundreds  of  dishes,  and  there,  like  a painter  with  his  paint-boxes, 
I would  simply  touch  them  with  my  fingers  and  thrust  them  aside. 
I would  stand  chewing  my  cud  like  a bull  in  the  city  market. 
And  now  he  is  so  poor  that  I have  to  run  here,  there,  and  every- 
where, and  come  home,  like  the  pigeons,  only  to  roost.  Now  here 
is  this  jasmine-scented  cloak,  which  Charudatta’s  good  friend 
Jurnavriddha  has  sent  him.  He  bade  me  give  it  to  Charudatta,  as 
soon  as  he  had  finished  his  devotions.  So  now  I will  look  for  Charu- 
datta. [He  walks  about  and  looks  around  him.]  Charudatta  has 
finished  his  devotions,  and  here  he  comes  with  an  offering  for  the 
divinities  of  the  house. 

[Enter  Charudatta  as  described,  and  Rcidanika.] 
Charudatta.  [Looking  up  and  sighing  wearily.] 

Upon  my  threshold,  where  the  offering 

Was  straightway  seized  by  swans  and  flocking  cranes, 

The  grass  grows  now,  and  these  poor  seeds  I fling 

Fall  where  the  mouth  of  worms  their  sweetness  stains.  9 
[He  walks  about  very  slowly  and  seats  himself.] 

Maitreya.  Charudatta  is  here.  I must  go  and  speak  to  him.  [Ap- 
proaching.] My  greetings  to  you.  May  happiness  be  yours. 


P.13.1]  THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND  7 

Charudatta.  Ah,  it  is  my  constant  friend  Maitreya.  You  are  very 
welcome,  my  friend.  Pray  be  seated. 

Maitreya.  Thank  you.  [He  seats  himself.]  Well,  comrade,  here  is  a 
jasmine-scented  cloak  which  your  good  friend  Jurnavriddha  has 
sent.  He  bade  me  give  it  you  as  soon  as  you  had  finished  your  de- 
votions. [He  presents  the  cloak.  Charudatta  takes  it  and  remains 
sunk  in  thought. ] Well,  what  are  you  thinking  about? 

Charudatta.  My  good  friend, 

A candle  shining  through  the  deepest  dark 
Is  happiness  that  follows  sorrow’s  strife; 

But  after  bliss  when  man  bears  sorrow’s  mark. 

His  body  lives  a very  death-in-life.  10 

Maitreya.  Well,  which  would  you  rather,  be  dead  or  be  poor? 
Charudatta.  Ah,  my  friend, 

Far  better  death  than  sorrows  sure  and  slow; 

Some  passing  suffering  from  death  may  flow, 

But  poverty  brings  never-ending  woe.  11 

Maitreya.  My  dear  friend,  be  not  thus  cast  down.  Your  wealth  has 
been  conveyed  to  them  you  love,  and  like  the  moon,  after  she  has 
yielded  her  nectar  to  the  gods,  your  waning  fortunes  win  an  added 
charm. 

Charudatta.  Comrade,  I do  not  grieve  for  my  ruined  fortunes.  But 
This  is  my  sorrow.  They  whom  I 
Would  greet  as  guests,  now  pass  me  by. 

“This  is  a poor  man’s  house,”  they  cry. 

As  flitting  bees,  the  season  o’er. 

Desert  the  elephant,  whose  store 

Of  ichor 1 spent,  attracts  no  more.  1 2 

Maitreya.  Oh,  confound  the  money ! It  is  a trifle  not  wrorth  think- 
ing about.  It  is  like  a cattle-boy  in  the  woods  afraid  of  wasps ; it 
does  n’t  stay  anywhere  where  it  is  used  for  food. 

1 During  the  mating  season,  a fragrant  liquor  exudes  from  the  forehead  of  the  elephant.  Of 
this  liquor  bees  are  very  fond. 


8 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[8.5  S. 


Charud.  Believe  me,  friend.  My  sorrow  does  not  spring 
From  simple  loss  of  gold; 

For  fortune  is  a fickle,  changing  thing, 

Whose  favors  do  not  hold ; 

But  he  whose  sometime  wealth  has  taken  wing, 

Finds  bosom-friends  grow  cold.  13 

Then  too: 

A poor  man  is  a man  ashamed ; from  shame 
Springs  want  of  dignity  and  worthy  fame; 

Such  want  gives  rise  to  insults  hard  to  bear; 

Thence  comes  despondency;  and  thence,  despair; 
Despair  breeds  folly;  death  is  folly’s  fruit. — 

Ah!  the  lack  of  money  is  all  evil’s  root!  14 

Maitreya.  But  just  remember  what  a trifle  money  is,  after  all,  and 
be  more  cheerful. 

Charudatta.  My  friend,  the  poverty  of  a man  is  to  him 

A home  of  cares,  a shame  that  haunts  the  mind, 
Another  form  of  warfare  with  mankind ; 

The  abhorrence  of  his  friends,  a source  of  hate 
From  strangers,  and  from  each  once-loving  mate; 

But  if  his  wife  despise  him,  then ’t  were  meet 
In  some  lone  wTood  to  seek  a safe  retreat. 

The  flame  of  sorrow,  torturing  his  soul, 

Burns  fiercely,  yet  contrives  to  leave  him  whole.  15 
Comrade,  I have  made  my  offering  to  the  divinities  of  the  house. 
Do  you  too  go  and  offer  sacrifice  to  the  Divine  Mothers  at  a place 
where  four  roads  meet. 

Maitreya.  No! 

Charudatta.  Why  not? 

Maitreya.  Because  the  gods  are  not  gracious  to  you  even  when 
thus  honored.  So  what  is  the  use  of  worshiping? 

Charudatta.  Not  so,  my  friend,  not  so!  This  is  the  constant  duty 
of  a householder. 


P.  16.8] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


9 


The  gods  feel  ever  glad  content 
In  the  gifts,  and  the  self-chastisement, 

The  meditations,  and  the  prayers, 

Of  those  who  banish  worldly  cares.  16 

Why  then  do  you  hesitate?  Go  and  offer  sacrifice  to  the  Mothers. 
Maitreya.  No,  I ’m  not  going.  You  must  send  somebody  else.  Any- 
way, everything  seems  to  go  wrong  with  me,  poor  Brahman  that 
I am ! It ’s  like  a reflection  in  a mirror ; the  right  side  becomes  the 
left,  and  the  left  becomes  the  right.  Besides,  at  this  hour  of  the 
evening,  people  are  abroad  upon  the  king’s  highway — courtezans, 
courtiers,  servants,  and  royal  favorites.  They  will  take  me  now  for 
fair  prey,  just  as  the  black-snake  out  frog-hunting  snaps  up  the 
mouse  in  his  path.  But  what  will  you  do  sitting  here? 
Charudatta.  Good  then,  remain ; and  I will  finish  my  devotions. 

Voices  behind  the  scenes.  Stop,  Vasantasena,  stop ! 

[ Enter  Vasantasena,  pursued  by  the  courtier,  by  Sansthanaka,  and 
the  servant.'] 

Courtier,  Vasantasena!  Stop,  stop! 

Ah,  why  should  fear  transform  your  tenderness? 

Why  should  the  dainty  feet  feel  such  distress, 

That  twinkle  in  the  dance  so  prettily? 

Why  should  your  eyes,  thus  startled  into  fear, 

Dart  sidelong  looks?  Why,  like  the  timid  deer 

Before  pursuing  hunters,  should  you  flee?  17 

Sansthanaka.  Shtop,1  Vasantasena,  shtop! 

Why  flee?  and  run?  and  shtumble  in  your  turning? 

Be  kind!  You  shall  not  die.  Oh,  shtop  your  feet! 

With  love,  shweet  girl,  my  tortured  heart  is  burning, 

As  on  a heap  of  coals  a piece  of  meat.  18 

1 The  most  striking  peculiarity  of  Sansthanaka’s  dialect — his  substitution  of  sh  for  s — I have 
tried  to  imitate  in  the  translation. 


10 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[10.2  S. 


Servant.  Stop,  courtezan,  stop! 

In  fear  you  flee 
Away  from  me, 

As  a summer  peahen  should ; 

But  my  lord  and  master 
Struts  fast  and  faster, 

Like  a woodcock  in  the  wood.  19 

Courtier.  Vasantasena!  Stop,  stop! 

Why  should  you  tremble,  should  you  flee, 

A-quiver  like  the  plantain  tree  ? 

Your  garment’s  border,  red  and  fair, 

Is  all  a-shiver  in  the  air; 

Now  and  again,  a lotus-bud 
Falls  to  the  ground,  as  red  as  blood. 

A red  realgar 1 vein  you  seem, 

Whence,  smitten,  drops  of  crimson  stream.  20 

Sansthanaka.  Shtop,  Vasantasena,  shtop! 

You  wake  my  passion,  my  desire,  my  love; 

You  drive  away  my  shleep  in  bed  at  night; 

Both  fear  and  terror  sheem  your  heart  to  move ; 

You  trip  and  shtumble  in  your  headlong  flight. 

But  Ravana  forced  KuntI 2 to  his  will ; 

Jusht  sho  shall  I enjoy  you  to  the  fill.  21 

Courtier.  Ah,  Vasantasena, 

Why  should  your  fleeter  flight 
Outstrip  my  flying  feet? 

Why,  like  a snake  in  fright 
Before  the  bird-king’s  might, 

Thus  seek  to  flee,  my  sweet? 

1 Red  arsenic,  used  as  a cosmetic. 

2 Here,  as  elsewhere,  Sansthanaka’s  mythology  is  wildly  confused.  To  a Hindu  the  effect  must 
be  ludicrous  enough ; but  the  humor  is  necessarily  lost  in  a translation.  It  therefore  seems  hardly 
worth  while  to  explain  his  mythological  vagaries  in  detail. 


P.  19.9] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


11 


Could  I not  catch  the  storm-wind  in  his  flight? 

Yet  would  not  seize  upon  you,  though  I might.  22 

Sansthanaka.  Lishten  to  me,  shir! 

Thish  whip  of  robber  Love,  thish  dancing-girl, 

Eater  of  fish,  deshtroyer  of  her  kin, 

Thish  shnubnose,  shtubborn,  love-box,  courtezan, 

Thish  clothes-line,  wanton  creature,  maid  of  sin — 

I gave  her  ten  shweet  names,  and  shtill 
She  will  not  bend  her  to  my  will.  23 

Courtier.  As  courtier’s  fingers  strike  the  lute’s  tense  string, 

The  dancing  ear-ring  smites  your  wounded  cheek. 
AYhy  should  you  flee,  with  dreadful  terror  weak. 

As  flees  the  crane  when  heaven’s  thunders  ring?  24 
Sansth.  Your  jingling  gems,  girl,  clink  like  anything; 

Like  Draupadi  you  flee,  when  Rama  kisshed  her. 

I ’ll  sheize  you  quick,  as  once  the  monkey -king 

Sheized  Subhadra,  Vishvavasu’s  shweet  shishter.  25 
Servant.  He ’s  the  royal  protege; 

Do  whatever  he  may  say, 

And  you  shall  have  good  fish  and  flesh  to  eat. 

For  when  dogs  have  all  the  fish 
And  the  flesh  that  they  can  wish, 

Even  carrion  seems  to  them  no  longer  sweet.  26 

Courtier.  Mistress  Vasantasena, 

The  girdle  drooping  low  upon  your  hips 
Flashes  as  brilliant  as  the  shining  stars; 

The  wondrous  terror  of  your  fleeing  mars 
Your  charms;  for  red  realgar*,  loosened,  slips 
As  on  an  imaged  god,  from  cheek  and  lips.  27 

Sansth.  W e ’re  chasing  you  with  all  our  main  and  might, 

As  dogs  a jackal  when  they  hunt  and  find  it; 

But  you  are  quick  and  nimble  in  your  flight, 

And  shteal  my  heart  with  all  the  roots  that  bind  it.  28 


12 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[11.23  S. 


Vasantasena.  Pallavaka!  Parabhritika! 

Sansthanaka.  Mashter!  a man!  a man! 

Courtier.  Don’t  be  a coward. 

Vasantasena.  Madhavika!  Madhavika! 

Courtier.  [ Laughing .]  Fool!  She  is  calling  her  servants. 
Sansthanaka.  Mashter!  Is  she  calling  a woman? 

Courtier.  Why,  of  course. 

Sansthanaka.  Women!  I kill  hundreds  of  ’em.  I’m  a brave  man. 
Vasantasena.  [Seeing  that  no  one  answers.']  Alas,  how  comes  it  that 
my  very  servants  have  fallen  away  from  me?  I shall  have  to  de- 
fend myself  by  mother-wit. 

Courtier.  Don’t  stop  the  search. 

Sansthanaka.  Shqueal,  Vasantasena,  shqueal  for  your  cuckoo  Para- 
bhritika, or  for  your  blosshom  Pallavaka  or  for  all  the  month  of 
May!  Who’s  going  to  save  you  when  I’m  chasing  you? 

Why  shpeak  of  Bhlmasena  ? Or  the  shon 
Of  Jamadagni,  that  thrice-mighty  one? 

The  ten-necked  ogre?  Shon  of  KuntI  fair? 

Jusht  look  at  me!  My  fingers  in  your  hair, 

Jusht  like  Duhshasana,  I’ll  tear,  and  tear.  29 

Look,  look! 

My  shword  is  sharp;  good-by,  poor  head! 

Let’s  chop  it  off,  or  kill  you  dead. 

Then  do  not  try  my  wrath  to  shun; 

When  you  musht  die,  your  life  is  done.  30 

V asantasena.  Sir,  I am  a weak  woman. 

Courtier.  That  is  why  you  are  still  alive. 

Sansthanaka.  That  is  why  you’re  not  murdered. 

Vasantasena.  [Aside.]  Oh!  his  very  courtesy  frightens  me.  Come, 
I will  try  this.  [Aloud.]  Sir,  what  do  you  expect  from  this  pursuit? 
my  jewels? 


P.  24.7] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


13 


Courtier.  Heaven  forbid ! A garden  creeper,  mistress  Vasantasena, 
should  not  be  robbed  of  its  blossoms.  Say  no  more  about  the  jewels. 
Vasantasena.  What  is  then  your  desire? 

Sansthanaka.  I’m  a man,  a big  man,  a regular  Vasudeva.1  You 
musht  love  me. 

Vasantasena.  [ Indignantly .]  Heavens ! You  weary  me.  Come,  leave 
me!  Your  words  are  an  insult. 

Sansthanaka.  [Laughing  and  clapping  his  hands.']  Look,  mashter, 
look!  The  courtezan’s  daughter  is  mighty  affectionate  with  me, 
is  n’t  she  ? Here  she  says  “ Come  on ! Heavens,  you  ’re  weary.  You  ’re 
tired!”  No,  I haven’t  been  walking  to  another  village  or  another 
city.  No,  little  mish tress,  I shwear  by  the  gentleman’s  head,  I 
shwear  by  my  own  feet!  It’s  only  by  chasing  about  at  your  heels 
that  I’ve  grown  tired  and  weary. 

Courtier.  [Aside.']  What!  is  it  possible  that  the  idiot  does  not 
understand  when  she  says  “You  weary  me”?  [A  loud.]  Vasantasena, 
your  words  have  no  place  in  the  dwelling  of  a courtezan, 

Which,  as  you  know,  is  friend  to  every  youth ; 

Remember,  you  are  common  as  the  flower 
That  grows  beside  the  road;  in  bitter  truth, 

Your  body  has  its  price;  your  beauty’s  dower 
Is  his,  who  pays  the  market’s  current  rate: 

Then  serve  the  man  you  love,  and  him  you  hate.  31 

And  again: 

The  wisest  Brahman  and  the  meanest  fool 
Bathe  in  the  selfsame  pool ; 

Beneath  the  peacock,  flowering  plants  bend  low. 

No  less  beneath  the  crow; 

The  Brahman,  warrior,  merchant,  sail  along 
With  all  the  vulgar  throng. 

You  are  the  pool,  the  flowering  plant,  the  boat; 

And  on  your  beauty  every  man  may  dote. 

1 A name  of  Krishna,  who  is  perhaps  the  most  amorous  character  in  Indian  story. 


32 


14 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[13.22  S. 


Vasantasena.  Yet  true  love  would  be  won  by  virtue,  not  violence. 
Sansthanaka.  But,  mashter,  ever  since  the  shlave-wench  went  into 
the  park  where  Kama’s1  temple  shtands,  she  has  been  in  love  with 
a poor  man,  with  Charudatta,  and  she  doesn’t  love  me  any  more. 
His  house  is  to  the  left.  Look  out  and  don’t  let  her  shlip  out  of  our 
hands. 

Courtier.  [. Aside.~\  Poor  fool,  he  has  said  the  very  thing  he  should 
have  concealed.  So  Vasantasena  is  in  love  with  Charudatta?  The 
proverb  is  right.  Pearl  suits  with  pearl.  Well,  I have  had  enough 
of  this  fool.  [ Aloud .]  Did  you  say  the  good  merchant’s  house  was 
to  the  left,  you  jackass? 

Sansthanaka.  Yes.  His  house  is  to  the  left. 

Vasantasena.  [. Aside .]  Oh,  wonderful ! If  his  house  is  really  at  my 
left  hand,  then  the  scoundrel  has  helped  me  in  the  very  act  of  hurt- 
ing me,  for  he  has  guided  me  to  my  love. 

Sansthanaka.  But  mashter,  it ’s  pitch  dark  and  it ’s  like  hunting 
for  a grain  of  soot  in  a pile  of  shpotted  beans.  Now  you  shee  Va- 
santasena and  now  you  don’t. 

Courtier.  Pitch  dark  it  is  indeed. 

The  sudden  darkness  seems  to  steal 
The  keenness  of  my  sight; 

My  open  eyes,  as  with  a seal, 

Are  closed  by  blackest  night.  33 

And  again: 

Darkness  anoints  my  body,  and  the  sky 
Drops  ointment  of  thick  darkness,  till  mine  eye 
Is  all  unprofitable  grown  to  me, 

Like  service  done  to  them  who  cheat  and  lie.  34 

Sansthanaka.  Mashter,  I ’m  looking  for  Vasantasena. 

Courtier.  Is  there  anything  you  can  trace  her  by,  jackass? 
Sansthanaka.  Like  what,  for  inshtance? 


1 Cupid. 


P.  28.3] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


15 


Courtier.  Like  the  tinkling  of  her  jewels,  for  instance,  or  the  fra- 
grance of  her  garlands. 

Sansthanaka.  I hear  the  shmell  of  her  garlands,  but  my  nose  is 
shtuffed  so  full  of  darkness  that  I don’t  shee  the  shound  of  her 
jewels  very  clearly. 

Courtier.  [ To  Vasantasena.  Aside .]  Vasantasena, 

’T  is  true,  the  night  is  dark,  O timid  maid, 

And  like  the  lightning  hidden  in  the  cloud, 

You  are  not  seen;  yet  you  will  be  betrayed 

By  fragrant  garlands  and  by  anklets  loud.  35 

Have  you  heard  me,  Vasantasena? 

Vasantasena.  [To  herself. ] Heard  and  understood.  [She  removes 
the  ankle-rings , lays  aside  the  garlands,  and  takes  a few  steps,  feel- 
ing her  way. ] I can  feel  the  wall  of  the  house,  and  here  is  a side- 
entrance.  But  alas!  my  fingers  tell  me  that  the  door  is  shut. 

Charudatta  [who  is  within  the  house].  Comrade,  my  prayer  is  done. 
Go  now  and  offer  sacrifice  to  the  Mothers. 

Maitreya.  No,  I’m  not  going. 

Charudatta.  Alas! 

The  poor  man’s  kinsmen  do  not  heed  his  will ; 

The  friends  who  loved  him  once,  now  stand  afar; 

His  sorrows  multiply;  his  strength  is  nil; 

Behold!  his  character’s  bright-shining  star 
Fades  like  the  waning  moon;  and  deeds  of  ill 
That  others  do,  are  counted  to  him  still.  36 

And  again: 

No  man  holds  converse  with  him;  none  will  greet 
With  due  respect  the  poor  man  when  they  meet. 

Where  rich  men  hold  a feast,  if  he  draw  near. 

He  meets  with  scornful  looks  for  looks  of  cheer. 


16 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[15.19  S. 


Where  vulgar  throngs  are  gathered,  ’t  is  the  same ; 

His  scanty  raiment  wakes  his  heartfelt  shame. 

Five  are  the  deadly  sins1  we  knew  before; 

Alas!  I find  the  sixth  is — to  be  poor.  37 

And  yet  again : 

Ah,  Poverty,  I pity  thee,  that  so 

To  me  thou  clingest,  as  thy  dearest  friend; 

When  my  poor  life  has  met  its  woeful  end, 

I sadly  wonder,  whither  thou  wilt  go.  38 

Maitreya.  [Betraying  his  embarrassment .]  Well,  comrade,  if  I must 
go,  at  least  let  Radanika  go  with  me,  to  keep  me  company. 
Charudatta.  Radanika,  you  are  to  accompany  Maitreya. 
Radanika.  Yes,  sir. 

Maitreya.  Mistress  Radanika,  do  you  take  the  offering  and  the 
candle  while  I open  the  side-door.  [He  does  so.] 

Vasantasena.  It  seems  as  if  the  door  took  pity  on  me  and  opened 
of  itself.  I will  lose  no  time,  but  enter.  [She  looks  in.~\  What?  a 
candle?  Oh  dear,  oh  dear!  [She puts  it  out  with  her  skirt  and  enters .] 
Charudatta.  What  was  that,  Maitreya? 

Maitreya.  I opened  the  side-door  and  the  wind  came  through  all 
in  a lump  and  blew  out  the  candle.  Suppose  you  go  out  by  the 
side-door,  Radanika,  and  I will  follow  as  soon  as  I have  gone  into 
the  courtyard  and  lighted  the  candle  again.  [Exit. 

Sansthanaka.  Mashter!  mashter!  I ’m  looking  for  Vasantasena. 
Courtier.  Keep  on  looking,  keep  on  looking! 

Sansthanaka.  [Does  so.]  Mashter!  mashter!  I ’ve  caught  her!  I ’ve 
caught  her! 

Courtier.  Idiot,  you ’ve  caught  me. 

Sansthanaka.  You  shtand  right  here,  mashter,  and  shtay  where 
you  ’re  put.  [He  renews  the  search  and  seizes  the  servant .]  Mashter! 

1 The  five  deadly  sins  are : the  slaying  of  a Brahman,  the  drinking  of  wine,  theft,  adultery 
with  the  wife  of  one’s  teacher,  and  association  with  one  guilty  of  these  crimes. 


P.  31.3] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


17 


mashter!  I ’ve  caught  her!  I Ve  caught  her! 

Servant.  Master,  you ’ve  caught  me,  your  servant. 

Sansthanaka.  Mashter  here,  shervant  here!  Mashter,  shervant; 
shervant,  mashter.  Now  shtay  where  you  ’re  put,  both  of  you.  [ He 
reneivs  the  search  and  seizes  Radanika  by  the  hair.']  Mashter!  mash- 
ter ! Thish  time  I ’ve  caught  her ! I ’ve  caught  Vasantasena ! 
Through  the  black  night  she  fled,  fled  she; 

Her  garland’s  shmell  betrayed  her; 

Like  Chanakya  caught  Draupadi, 

I caught  her  hair  and  shtayed  her.  39 

Courtier.  Ah,  proud  to  be  so  young,  so  fair ! 

Too  high  thy  love  must  not  aspire; 

For  now  thy  blossom-fragrant  hair, 

That  merits  richest  gems  and  rare, 

Serves  but  to  drag  thee  through  the  mire.  40 

. Sansth.  I ’ve  got  your  head,  girl,  got  it  tight, 

By  the  hair,  the  locks,  and  the  curls,  too. 

Now  shcream,  shqueak,  shqueal  with  all  your  might 
“ Shiva ! Ishvara ! Shankara ! Shambhu ! ” 1 41 

Radanika.  [In  terror.]  Oh,  sirs,  what  does  this  mean? 

Courtier.  You  jackass!  It’s  another  voice. 

Sansthanaka.  Mashter,  the  wench  has  changed  her  voice,  the  way  a 
cat  changes  her  voice,  when  she  wants  shome  cream  of  curdled  milk. 
Courtier.  Changed  her  voice?  Strange!  Yet  why  so  strange? 

She  trod  the  stage;  she  learned  the  arts; 

She  studied  to  deceive  our  hearts; 

And  now  she  practises  her  parts.  42 

[Enter  Maitreya.] 

Maitreya.  Look!  In  the  gentle  evening  breeze  the  flame  of  the 
candle  is  fluttering  like  the  heart  of  a goat  that  goes  to  the  altar. 
[He  approaches  and  discovers  Radanika.]  Mistress  Radanika! 


1 These  are  all  epithets  of  the  same  god. 


18 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[17.17  S. 


Sansthanaka.  Mashter,  mashter!  A man!  a man! 

Maitreya.  This  is  right,  this  is  perfectly  right,  that  strangers  should 
force  their  way  into  the  house,  just  because  Charudatta  is  poor. 
Radanika.  Oh,  Maitreya,  see  how  they  insult  me. 

Maitreya . What!  insult  you?  No,  they  are  insulting  us. 
Radanika.  A ery  well.  They  are  insulting  you,  then. 

Maitreya.  But  they  are  n’t  using  violence? 

Radanika.  Yes,  yes! 

Maitreya.  Really? 

Radanika.  Really. 

Maitreya.  [Raising  his  staff  angrily .]  No,  sir!  Man,  a dog  will  show 
his  teeth  in  his  own  kennel,  and  I am  a Brahman ! My  staff  is  crooked 
as  my  fortunes,  but  it  can  still  split  a dry  bamboo  or  a rascal’s  pate. 
Courtier.  Have  mercy,  O great  Brahman,  have  mercy. 

Maitreya.  [Discovers  the  courtier.']  He  is  not  the  sinner.  [Discovers 
Sansthanaka.]  Ah,  here  is  the  sinner.  Well,  you  brother-in-law  to 
the  king,  Sansthanaka,  you  scoundrel,  you  coward,  this  is  perfectly 
proper,  isn’t  it?  Charudatta  the  good  is  a poor  man  now — true, 
but  are  not  his  virtues  an  ornament  to  UjjayinI  ? And  so  men  break 
into  his  house  and  insult  his  servants! 

Insult  not  him,  laid  low  by  poverty; 

For  none  are  counted  poor  by  mighty  fate: 

Yet  he  who  falls  from  virtue’s  high  estate, 

Though  he  be  rich,  no  man  is  poor  as  he.  48 

Courtier.  [Betraying  his  embarrassment.]  Have  mercy,  O great 
Brahman,  have  mercy.  We  intended  no  insolence;  we  merely  mis- 
took this  lady  for  another.  For 

We  sought  an  amorous  maiden, 

Maitreya.  What!  this  one? 

Courtier.  Heaven  forbid! 

one  whose  youth 

Is  in  the  guidance  of  her  own  sweet  will; 


P.  3o.  4] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


19 


She  disappeared ; unconscious  of  the  truth. 

We  did  what  seems  a purposed  deed  of  ill.  44 

I pray  you,  accept  this  all-in-all  of  humblest  supplication.  [He  drops 
his  sword,  folds  his  hands,  and  falls  at  Maitreya  s feet.] 

Maitreya.  Good  man,  rise,  rise.  When  I reviled  you,  I did  not  know 
you.  Now  I know  you  and  I ask  your  pardon. 

Courtier.  It  is  I who  should  ask  pardon.  I will  rise  on  one  condition. 
Maitreya.  And  that  is — 

Courtier.  That  you  will  not  tell  Charudatta  what  has  happened  here. 
Maitreya.  I will  be  silent. 

Courtier.  Brahman,  this  gracious  act  of  thine 
I bow  my  neck  to  bear; 

For  never  could  this  sword  of  mine 

With  virtue’s  steel  compare.  45 

Sansthanaka.  [ Indignantly .]  But  mashter,  what  makes  you  fold 
your  hands  sho  helplesshly  and  fall  at  the  feet  of  thish  manikin? 
Courtier.  I was  afraid. 

Sansthanaka.  What  were  you  afraid  of? 

Courtier.  Of  Charudatta’s  virtues. 

Sansthanaka.  Virtues?  He?  You  can  go  into  his  houshe  and  not 
find  a thing  to  eat. 

Courtier.  No,  no. 

His  loving-kindness  unto  such  as  we 
Has  brought  him  low  at  last; 

From  him  could  no  man  learn  what  insults  be, 

Or  e’er  his  wealth  was  past. 

This  well-filled  pool,  that  in  its  summer  day 
Gave  others  drink,  itself  is  dried  away.  46 

Sansthanaka.  [Impatiently.']  Who  is  the  shon  of  a shlave-wench 
anyway  ? 

Brave  Shvetaketu  is  he,  Pandu’s  child? 

Or  Radha’s  shon,  the  ten-necked  ogre  wild? 


20 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[19.19  S. 


Or  Indradatta?  or  again,  is  he 

Shon  of  brave  Rama  and  of  fair  Kunti? 

Or  Dharmaputra?  Ashvatthaman  bold? 

Perhaps  Jatayu’s  shelf,  that  vulture  old?  47 

Courtier.  Fool!  I will  tell  you  who  Charudatta  is. 

A tree  of  life  to  them  wrhose  sorrows  grow, 

Beneath  its  fruit  of  virtue  bending  low; 

Father  to  good  men;  virtue’s  touchstone  he; 

The  mirror  of  the  learned ; and  the  sea 
Where  all  the  tides  of  character  unite; 

A righteous  man,  whom  pride  could  never  blight; 

A treasure-house,  with  human  virtues  stored; 
Courtesy’s  essence,  honor’s  precious  hoard. 

He  doth  to  life  its  fullest  meaning  give, 

So  good  is  he;  we  others  breathe,  not  live.  48 

Let  us  be  gone. 

Sansthanaka.  Without  Vasantasena? 

Courtier.  Vasantasena  has  disappeared. 

Sansthanaka.  How? 

Courtier.  Like  sick  men’s  strength,  or  like  the  blind  man’s  sight, 
Like  the  fool’s  judgment,  like  the  sluggard’s  might, 
Like  thoughtless  scoundrels’  store  of  wisdom’s  light, 
Like  love,  when  foemen  fan  our  slumbering  wrath, 

So  did  she  vanish,  when  you  crossed  her  path.  49 

Sansthanaka.  I ’m  not  going  without  Vasantasena. 

Courtier.  And  did  you  never  hear  this  ? 

To  hold  a horse,  you  need  a rein; 

To  hold  an  elephant,  a chain; 

To  hold  a woman,  use  a heart; 

And  if  you  have  n’t  one,  depart.  50 

Sansthanaka.  If  you  ’re  going,  go  along.  I ’m  not  going. 

Courtier.  Very  well.  I will  go. 


[Exit. 


P.  38.2] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


21 


Sansthanaka.  Mashter's  gone,  sure  enough.  [To  Maitreya.~]  Well, 
you  man  with  the  head  that  looks  like  a caret,  you  manikin,  take  a 
sheat,  take  a sheat. 

Maitreya.  We  have  already  been  invited  to  take  a seat. 
Sansthanaka.  By  whom? 

Maitreya.  By  destiny. 

Sansthanaka.  Shtand  up,  then,  shtand  up! 

Maitreya.  We  shall. 

Sansthanaka.  When? 

Maitreya.  When  fate  is  kind  again. 

Sansthanaka.  Weep,  then,  weep! 

Maitreya.  We  have  wept. 

Sansthanaka.  Who  made  you? 

Maitreya.  Poverty. 

Sansthanaka.  Laugh,  then,  laugh! 

Maitreya.  Laugh  we  shall. 

Sansthanaka.  When? 

Maitreya.  When  Charudatta  is  happy  once  more. 

Sansthanaka.  You  manikin,  give  poor  little  Charudatta  thish  mes- 
shage  from  me.  “Thish  wench  with  golden  ornaments  and  golden 
jewels,  thish  female  shtage-manager  looking  after  the  rehearsal  of 
a new  play,  thish  Yasantasena — she  has  been  in  love  with  you  ever 
shince  she  went  into  the  park  where  Kama’s  temple  shtands.  And 
when  we  tried  to  conciliate  her  by  force,  she  went  into  your  houshe. 
Now  if  you  shend  her  away  yourshelf  and  hand  her  over  to  me,  if 
you  reshtore  her  at  once,  without  any  lawshuit  in  court,  then  I ’ll 
be  friends  with  you  forever.  But  if  you  don’t  reshtore  her,  there 
will  be  a fight  to  the  death.”  Remember: 

Shmear  a pumpkin-shtalk  with  cow-dung; 

Keep  your  vegetables  dried ; 

Cook  your  rice  in  winter  evenings; 


22 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[21.17  S. 


And  be  sure  your  meat  is  fried. 

Then  let  ’em  shtand,  and  they  will  not 
Bothershomely  shmell  and  rot.  51 

Tell  it  to  him  prettily,  tell  it  to  him  craftily.  Tell  it  to  him  sho  that 
I can  hear  it  as  I roosht  in  the  dove-cote  on  the  top  of  my  own 
palace.  If  you  shay  it  different,  I ’ll  chewr  your  head  like  an  apple 
caught  in  the  crack  of  a door. 

Maitreya.  Very  well.  I shall  tell  him. 

Sansthanaka.  [ Aside.]  Tell  me,  shervant.  Is  mashter  really  gone? 
Servant.  Yes,  sir. 

Sansthanaka.  Then  we  will  go  as  quickly  as  we  can. 

Servant.  Then  take  your  sword,  master. 

Sansthanaka.  You  can  keep  it. 

Servant.  Here  it  is,  master.  Take  your  sword,  master. 
Sansthanaka.  [Taking  it  by  the  wrong  end.'] 

My  shword,  red  as  a radish  shkin, 

Ne’er  finds  the  time  to  molder; 

Shee  how  it  shleeps  its  sheath  within! 

I put  it  on  my  shoulder. 

While  curs  and  bitches  yelp  at  me,  I roam, 

Like  a hunted  jackal,  home.  52 

[Sansthanaka  and  the  servant  walk  about,  then  exeunt. 
Maitreya.  Mistress  Radanika,  you  must  not  tell  good  Charudatta 
of  this  outrage.  I am  sure  you  would  only  add  to  the  poor  man’s 
sorrows. 

Radanika.  Good  Maitreya,  you  know  Radanika.  Her  lips  are  sealed. 
Maitreya.  So  be  it. 


Charudatta.  [ To  Vasantasena.]  Radanika,  Rohasena  likes  the  fresh 
air,  but  he  will  be  cold  in  the  evening  chill.  Pray  bring  him  into  the 
house,  and  cover  him  with  this  mantle.  [He gives  her  the  mantle.] 


P.  42.12] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


23 


Vasantasena.  [To  herself !]  See!  He  thinks  I am  his  servant.  [She 
takes  the  mantle  and  perceives  its  perfume.  Ardently  to  herself ] Oh, 
beautiful ! The  mantle  is  fragrant  with  jasmine.  His  youthful  days 
are  not  wholly  indifferent  to  the  pleasures  of  the  world.  [She  wraps 
it  about  her,  without  letting  Charudatta  see.] 

Charudatta.  Come,  Radanika,  take  Rohasena  and  enter  the  heart 
of  the  house. 

Vasantasena.  [To  herself]  Ah  me  unhappy,  that  have  little  part 
or  lot  in  your  heart! 

Charudatta.  Come,  Radanika,  will  you  not  even  answ’er?  Alas! 
When  man  once  sees  that  miserable  day, 

When  fate  almighty  sweeps  his  wealth  away, 

Then  ancient  friendships  will  no  longer  hold, 

Then  all  his  former  bosom-friends  grow  cold.  53 

Maitreya.  [Drawing  near  to  Radanika.]  Sir,  here  is  Radanika. 
Charudatta.  Here  is  Radanika?  Who  then  is  this — 

This  unknown  lady,  by  my  robe 
Thus  clinging,  desecrated, 

Vasantasena.  [To  herself.]  Say  rather  “consecrated.” 

Charudatta. 

Until  she  seems  the  crescent  moon, 

With  clouds  of  autumn1  mated?  54 

But  no!  I may  not  gaze  upon  another’s  wife. 

Maitreya.  Oh,  you  need  not  fear  that  you  are  looking  at  another 
man’s  wife.  This  is  Vasantasena,  who  has  been  in  love  with  you 
ever  since  she  saw  you  in  the  garden  where  Kama’s  temple  stands. 
Charudatta.  What!  this  is  Vasantasena?  [Aside.] 

My  love  for  whom — my  fortune  spent — 

My  wretched  self  in  twain  has  rent, 

Like  coward’s  anger,  inward  bent.  55 


1 Which  look  pretty,  but  do  not  rain.  He  doubtless  means  to  suggest  that  the  cloak,  belong- 
ing to  a strange  man,  is  as  useless  to  Vasantasena  as  the  veil  of  autumn  clouds  to  the  earth. 


24 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[23.19  S. 


Maitreya.  My  friend,  that  brother-in-law  of  the  king  says — 
Charudatta.  Well? 

Maitreya.  “This  wench  with  golden  ornaments  and  golden  jewels, 
this  female  stage-manager  looking  after  the  rehearsal  of  a new 
play,  this  Vasantasena — she  has  been  in  love  with  you  ever  since 
she  went  into  the  park  where  Kama’s  temple  stands.  And  when  we 
tried  to  conciliate  her  by  force,  she  went  into  your  house.” 
Vasantasena.  [To  herself. ] “Tried  to  conciliate  me  by  force” — 
truly,  I am  honored  by  these  words. 

Maitreya.  “Now  if  you  send  her  away  yourself  and  hand  her  over 
to  me,  if  you  restore  her  at  once,  without  any  lawsuit  in  court, 
then  I ’ll  be  friends  with  you  forever.  Otherwise,  there  will  be  a 
fight  to  the  death.” 

Charudatta.  [Contemptuously.']  He  is  a fool.  [To  himself.]  How  is 
this  maiden  worthy  of  the  worship  that  we  pay  a goddess ! For  now 

Although  I bade  her  enter,  yet  she  seeks 
To  spare  my  poverty,  nor  enters  here; 

Though  men  are  known  to  her,  yet  all  she  speaks 

Contains  no  word  to  wound  a modest  ear.  56 

[Aloud.]  Mistress  Vasantasena,  I have  unwittingly  made  myself 
guilty  of  an  offense ; for  I greeted  as  a servant  one  whom  I did  not 
recognize.  I bend  my  neck  to  ask  your  pardon. 

Vasantasena.  It  is  I who  have  offended  by  this  unseemly  intrusion. 
I bow  my  head  to  seek  your  forgiveness. 

Maitreya.  Yes,  with  your  pretty  bows  you  two  have  knocked  your 
heads  together,  till  they  look  like  a couple  of  rice-fields.  I also  bow 
my  head  like  a camel  colt’s  knee  and  beseech  you  both  to  stand 
up.  [He  does  so,  then  rises.] 

Charudatta.  Very  well,  let  us  no  longer  trouble  ourselves  with  con- 
ventions. 

Vasantasena.  [To  herself.]  What  a delightfully  clever  hint!  But 
it  would  hardly  be  proper  to  spend  the  night,  considering  how  I 


P.  45.14] 


THE  GEMS  ARE  LEFT  BEHIND 


25 


came  hither.  Well,  I will  at  least  say  this  much.  [Aloud.]  If  I am 
to  receive  thus  much  of  your  favor,  sir,  I should  be  glad  to  leave 
these  jewels  in  your  house.  It  was  for  the  sake  of  the  jewels  that 
those  scoundrels  pursued  me. 

Charudatta.  This  house  is  not  worthy  of  the  trust. 

Vasantasena.  You  mistake,  sir!  It  is  to  men  that  treasures  are  en- 
trusted, not  to  houses. 

Charudatta.  Maitreya,  will  you  receive  the  jewels? 

Vasantasena.  I am  much  indebted  to  you.  [She  hands  him  the 
jewels .] 

Maitreya.  [Receiving  them.]  Heaven  bless  you,  madam. 
Charudatta.  Fool!  They  are  only  entrusted  to  us. 

Maitreya.  [Aside.]  Then  the  thieves  may  take  them,  for  all  I care. 
Charudatta.  In  a very  short  time — 

Maitreya.  What  she  has  entrusted  to  us,  belongs  to  us. 
Charudatta.  I shall  restore  them. 

Vasantasena.  I should  be  grateful,  sir,  if  this  gentleman  would 
accompany  me  home. 

Charudatta.  Maitreya,  pray  accompany  our  guest. 

Maitreya.  She  walks  as  gracefully  as  a female  swan,  and  you  are 
the  gay  flamingo  to  accompany  her.  But  I am  only  a poor  Brahman, 
and  wherever  I go,  the  people  will  fall  upon  me  just  as  dogs  will 
snap  at  a victim  dragged  to  the  cross-roads. 

Charudatta.  Very  well.  I will  accompany  her  myself.  Let  the 
torches  be  lighted,  to  ensure  our  safety  on  the  highway. 
Maitreya.  Yardhamanaka,  light  the  torches. 

Vardhamanaka.  [Aside  to  Maitreya.]  What!  light  torches  with- 
out oil? 

Maitreya.  [Aside  to  Charudatta.]  These  torches  of  ours  are  like 
courtezans  who  despise  their  poor  lovers.  They  won’t  light  up  un- 
less you  feed  them. 


26 


ACT  THE  FIRST 


[25.23  S. 


Charudatta.  Enough,  Maitreya ! We  need  no  torches.  See,  we  have 
a lamp  upon  the  king’s  highway. 

Attended  by  her  starry  servants  all, 

And  pale  to  see  as  a loving  maiden’s  cheeks, 

Rises  before  our  eyes  the  moon’s  bright  ball, 

Whose  pure  beams  on  the  high-piled  darkness  fall 

Like  streaming  milk  that  dried-up  marshes  seeks.  57 
[His  voice  betraying  his  passion.']  Mistress  Vasantasena,  we  have 
reached  your  home.  Pray  enter.  [ Vasantasena  gazes  ardently  at  him, 
then  exit.]  Comrade,  Vasantasena  is  gone.  Come,  let  us  go  home. 
All  creatures  from  the  highway  take  their  flight; 

The  watchmen  pace  their  rounds  before  our  sight; 

To  forestall  treachery,  is  just  and  right, 

For  many  sins  find  shelter  in  the  night.  58 

[He  walks  about.]  And  you  shall  guard  this  golden  casket  by  night, 
and  Vardhamanaka  by  day. 

Maitreya.  Very  well.  [Exeunt  arnbo. 


ACT  THE  SECOND 
THE  SHAMPOOER1  WHO  GAMBLED 


Maid  [ Enter  a maid.~\ 

I AM  sent  with  a message  to  my  mistress  by  her  mother.  I must 
go  in  and  find  my  mistress.  [She  walks  about  and  looks  around 
her.~\  There  is  my  mistress.  She  is  painting  a picture,  and  putting 
her  whole  heart  into  it.  I must  go  and  speak  to  her. 

[ Then  appear  the  love-lorn  Vasantasena , seated,  and  Madanika .] 
Vasantasena.  Well,  girl,  and  then — 

Madanika.  But  mistress,  you  were  not  speaking  of  anything.  What 
do  you  mean  ? 

Vasantasena.  Why,  what  did  I say? 

Madanika.  You  said,  “and  then” — 

Vasantasena.  [Puckering  her  brows .]  Oh,  yes.  So  I did. 

Maid.  [. Approaching .]  Mistress,  your  mother  sends  word  that  you 
should  bathe  and  then  offer  worship  to  the  gods. 

Vasantasena.  You  may  tell  my  mother  that  I shall  not  take  the 
ceremonial  bath  to-day.  A Brahman  must  offer  worship  in  my  place. 
Maid.  Yes,  mistress.  [Exit. 

Madanika.  My  dear  mistress,  it  is  love,  not  naughtiness,  that  asks 
the  question — but  what  does  this  mean? 

Vasantasena.  Tell  me,  Madanika.  How  do  I seem  to  you? 
Madanika.  My  mistress  is  so  absent-minded  that  I know  her  heart 
is  filled  with  longing  for  somebody. 

Vasantasena.  Well  guessed.  My  Madanika  is  quick  to  fathom 
another’s  heart. 

Madanika.  I am  very,  very  glad.  Yes,  Kama  is  indeed  mighty,  and 


1 Perhaps  masseur  would  be  more  accurate. 


28 


ACT  THE  SECOND 


[28.1  S. 


his  great  festival  is  welcome  when  one  is  young.  But  tell  me,  mis- 
tress, is  it  a king,  or  a king’s  favorite,  whom  you  worship  ? 
Vasantasena.  Girl,  I wish  to  love,  not  to  worship. 

Madanika.  Is  it  a Brahman  that  excites  your  passion,  some  youth 
distinguished  for  very  particular  learning? 

Vasantasena.  A Brahman  I should  have  to  reverence. 

Madanika.  Or  is  it  some  young  merchant,  grown  enormously 
wealthy  from  visiting  many  cities? 

Vasantasena.  A merchant,  girl,  must  go  to  other  countries  and 
leave  you  behind,  no  matter  how  much  you  love  him.  And  the 
separation  makes  you  very  sad. 

Madanika.  It  is  n’t  a king,  nor  a favorite,  nor  a Brahman,  nor  a 
merchant.  Who  is  it  then  that  the  princess  loves  ? 

Vasantasena.  Girl!  Girl!  You  went  with  me  to  the  park  where 
Kama’s  temple  stands? 

Madanika.  Yes,  mistress. 

Vasantasena.  And  yet  you  ask,  as  if  you  were  a perfect  stranger. 
Madanika.  Now  I know.  Is  it  the  man  who  comforted  you  when 
you  asked  to  be  protected? 

Vasantasena.  Well,  what  was  his  name? 

Madanika.  Why,  he  lives  in  the  merchants’  quarter. 

Vasantasena.  But  I asked  you  for  his  name. 

Madanika.  His  name,  mistress,  is  a good  omen  in  itself.  His  name 
is  Charudatta. 

Vasantasena.  [ Joyfully .]  Good,  Madanika,  good.  You  have  guessed 
it. 

Madanika.  [ Aside .]  So  much  for  that.  [Aloud.]  Mistress,  they  say 
he  is  poor. 

Vasantasena.  That  is  the  very  reason  why  I love  him.  For  a courte- 
zan who  sets  her  heart  on  a poor  man  is  blameless  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world. 


p.52.14]  THE  SHAMPOOER  WHO  GAMBLED 


29 


Madanika.  But  mistress,  do  the  butterflies  visit  the  mango-tree 
when  its  blossoms  have  fallen? 

V asantasena.  That  is  just  why  we  call  that  sort  of  a girl  a butterfly. 
Madanika.  W ell,  mistress,  if  you  love  him,  why  don’t  you  go  and 
visit  him  at  once  ? 

V asantasena.  Girl,  if  I should  visit  him  at  once,  then,  because  he 
can’t  make  any  return — no,  I don't  mean  that,  but  it  would  be 
hard  to  see  him. 

Madanika.  Is  that  the  reason  why  you  left  your  jewels  with  him? 
V asantasena.  You  have  guessed  it. 

A voice 1 behind  the  scenes.  Oh,  sir,  a shampooer  owes  me  ten  gold- 
pieces,  and  he  got  away  from  us.  Hold  him,  hold  him!  [To  the  flee- 
ing shampooer.']  Stop,  stop!  I see  you  from  here.  [Enter  hurriedly 
a frightened  shampooer.] 

Shampooer.  Oh,  confound  this  gambling  business! 

Freed  from  its  tether,  the  ace— 

I might  better  say  “ass” — how  it  kicks  me! 

And  the  cast  of  the  dice  called  the  “spear” 

Proves  true  to  its  name;  for  it  sticks  me.  1 

The  keeper’s  whole  attention 
Was  busy  with  the  score; 

So  it  took  no  great  invention 
To  vanish  through  the  door. 

But  I cannot  stand  forever 
In  the  unprotected  street. 

Is  there  no  one  to  deliver? 

I would  fall  before  his  feet.  2 

While  the  keeper  and  the  gambler  are  looking  somewhere  else 
for  me,  I’ll  just  walk  backwards  into  this  empty  temple  and  turn 
goddess.  [He  makes  all  sorts  of  gestures , takes  his  place,  and  waits. 
Enter  Mathura  and  the  gambler.] 

1 That  of  Mathura,  the  keeper  of  the  gambling-house. 


30 


ACT  THE  SECOND 


[30.1  S. 


Mathura.  Oh,  sir,  a shampooer  owes  me  ten  gold-pieces,  and  he  got 
away  from  us.  Hold  him,  hold  him!  Stop,  stop!  I see  you  from 
here. 

Gambler.  You  may  run  to  hell,  if  they’ll  take  you  in; 

With  Indra,  the  god,  you  may  stay: 

For  there’s  never  a god  can  save  your  skin, 

While  Mathura  wants  his  pay.  3 

Mathura.  Oh,  whither  flee  you,  nimble  rambler, 

You  that  cheat  an  honest  gambler? 

You  that  shake  with  fear  and  shiver, 

All  a-tremble,  all  a-quiver; 

You  that  cannot  trip  enough, 

On  the  level  ground  and  rough; 

You  that  stain  your  social  station, 

Family,  and  reputation!  4 

Gambler.  [ Examining  the  foot prints.']  Here  he  goes.  And  here  the 
tracks  are  lost. 

Mathura.  [ Gazes  at  the  footprints.  Reflectively.  ] Look ! The  feet  are 
turned  around.  And  the  temple  has  n’t  any  image.  [A fter  a mo- 
ment's thought. ] That  rogue  of  a shampooer  has  gone  into  the  tem- 
ple with  his  feet  turned  around. 

Gambler.  Let’s  follow  him. 

Mathura.  All  right.  [ They  enter  the  temple  and  take  a good  look , 
then  make  signs  to  each  other.'] 

Gambler.  What!  a wooden  image? 

Mathura.  Of  course  not.  It ’s  stone.  [He  shakes  it  with  all  his  might, 
then  makes  signs.]  What  do  we  care?  Come,  let’s  have  a game.  [He 
starts  to  gamble  as  hard  as  he  can.] 

Shampooer.  [Trying  with  all  his  might  to  repress  the  gambling 
fever.  Aside.]  Oh,  oh! 

Oh,  the  rattle  of  dice  is  a charming  thing. 

When  you  have  n’t  a copper  left ; 


P.56.10]  THE  SHAMPOOER  WHO  GAMBLED 


31 


It  works  like  a drum  on  the  heart  of  a king, 

Of  all  his  realm  bereft.  5 

For  gamblers  leap  down  a mountain  steep — 

I know  I shall  not  play. 

Yet  the  rattle  of  dice  is  as  sweet  as  the  peep 

Of  nightingales  in  May.  6 

Gambler.  My  turn,  my  turn! 

Mathura.  Not  much!  it’s  my  turn. 

Shampooer.  [ Coming  up  quickly  from  behind .]  Isn’t  it  my  turn? 
Gambler.  We  ’ve  got  our  man. 

Mathura.  [Seizing  him.]  You  jail-bird,  you  re  caught.  Pay  me 
my  ten  gold-pieces. 

Shampooer.  I ’ll  pay  you  this  very  day. 

Mathura.  Pay  me  this  very  minute ! 

Shampooer.  I ’ll  pay  you.  Only  have  mercy! 

Mathura.  Come,  will  you  pay  me  now? 

Shampooer.  My  head  is  getting  dizzy.  [He  falls  to  the  gi'ound.  The 
others  beat  him  with  all  their  might. ] 

Mathura.  There  [drawing  the  gamblers  ring ] you’re  bound  by 
the  gamblers’  ring. 

Shampooer.  [Rises.  Despairingly .]  What!  bound  by  the  gamblers’ 
ring?  Confound  it!  That  is  a limit  which  we  gamblers  can’t  pass. 
Where  can  I get  the  money  to  pay  him  ? 

Mathura.  Well  then,  you  must  give  surety. 

Shampooer.  I have  an  idea.  [He  nudges  the  gambler.']  I’ll  give  you 
half,  if  you’ll  forgive  me  the  other  half. 

Gambler.  All  right. 

Shampooer.  [To  Mathura.]  I’ll  give  you  surety  for  a half.  You 
might  forgive  me  the  other  half. 

Mathura.  All  right.  Where ’s  the  harm  ? 

Shampooer.  [Aloud.]  You  forgave  me  a half,  sir? 


32 


ACT  THE  SECOND 


[31.24  S. 


Mathura.  Yes. 

Shampooer.  [To  the  gambler.']  And  you  forgave  me  a half? 
Gambler.  Yes. 

Shampooer.  Then  I think  I ’ll  be  going. 

Mathura.  Pay  me  my  ten  gold-pieces!  Where  are  you  going? 
Shampooer.  Look  at  this,  gentlemen,  look  at  this!  Here  I just  gave 
surety  to  one  of  them  for  a half,  and  the  other  forgave  me  a half. 
And  even  after  that  he  is  dunning  me,  poor  helpless  me ! 
Mathura.  [Seizing  him.]  My  name  is  Mathura,  the  clever  swindler, 
and  you  ’re  not  going  to  swindle  me  this  time.  Pay  up,  jail-bird, 
every  bit  of  my  money,  and  this  minute,  too. 

Shampooer.  How  can  I pay? 

Mathura.  Sell  your  father  and  pay. 

Shampooer.  Where  can  I get  a father? 

Mathura.  Sell  your  mother  and  pay. 

Shampooer.  Where  can  I get  a mother? 

Mathura.  Sell  yourself  and  pay. 

Shampooer.  Have  mercy!  Lead  me  to  the  king’s  highway. 
Mathura.  Go  ahead. 

Shampooer.  If  it  must  be.  [He  walks  about.]  Gentlemen,  will  you 
buy  me  for  ten  gold-pieces  from  this  gambling-master?  [He  sees 
a passer-by  and  calls  out.]  What  is  that?  You  wish  to  know  what 
I can  do?  I will  be  your  house-servant.  What!  he  has  gone  without 
even  answering.  Well,  here ’s  another.  I ’ll  speak  to  him.  [He  re- 
peats his  offer.]  What!  this  one  too  takes  no  notice  of  me.  He  is 
gone.  Confound  it!  I ’ve  had  hard  luck  ever  since  Charudatta  lost 
his  fortune. 

Mathura.  Will  you  pay? 

Shampooer.  How  can  I pay  ? [He  falls  down.  Mathura  drags  him 
about.]  Good  gentlemen,  save  me,  save  me!  [Enter  Darduraka.] 
Darduraka.  Yes,  gambling  is  a kingdom  without  a throne. 


p.  61.5]  THE  SHAMPOOER  WHO  GAMBLED 


33 


You  do  not  mind  defeat  at  all; 

Great  are  the  sums  you  spend  and  win ; ' 

While  kingly  revenues  roll  in, 

Rich  men,  like  slaves,  before  you  fall.  7 

And  again : 

You  earn  your  coin  by  gambling, 

Your  friends  and  wife  by  gambling, 

Your  gifts  and  food  by  gambling; 

Your  last  cent  goes  by  gambling.  8 

And  again: 

My  cash  was  taken  by  the  trey; 

The  deuce  then  took  my  health  away; 

The  ace  then  set  me  on  the  street; 

The  four  completed  my  defeat.  9 

{He  looks  before  him.']  Here  comes  Mathura,  our  sometime  gam- 
bling-master. Well,  as  I can’t  escape,  I think  I ’ll  put  on  my  veil. 
{He  makes  any  number  of  gestures  with  his  cloak,  then  examines  it.] 
This  cloth  is  sadly  indigent  in  thread; 

This  lovely  cloth  lets  in  a lot  of  light; 

This  cloth’s  protective  power  is  nearly  fled; 

This  cloth  is  pretty  when  it ’s  rolled  up  tight.  10 
Yet  after  all,  what  more  could  a poor  saint  do?  For  you  see, 

One  foot  I ’ve  planted  in  the  sky, 

The  other  on  the  ground  must  lie.1 
The  elevation ’s  rather  high, 

But  the  sun  stands  it.  Why  can’t  I?  11 

Mathura.  Pay,  pay! 

Shampooer.  How  can  I pay?  {Mathura  drags  him  about.] 
Darduraka.  Well,  well,  what  is  this  I see?  {He  addresses  a by- 
stander.] What  did  you  say,  sir?  “This  shampooer  is  being  mal- 
treated by  the  gambling-master,  and  no  one  will  save  him”  ? I ’ll 
save  him  myself.  {He  presses  forward.]  Stand  back,  stand  back! 

1 A humorously  exaggerated  reference  to  Indian  ascetic  practices. 


34 


ACT  THE  SECOND 


[33.25  S. 


[He  takes  a look.]  Well,  if  this  is  n’t  that  swindler  Mathura.  And 
here  is  the  poor  saintly  shampooer;  a saint  to  be  sure, 

Who  does  not  hang  with  bended  head 
Rigid  till  set  of  sun, 

Who  does  not  rub  his  back  with  sand 
Till  boils  begin  to  run, 

Whose  shins  dogs  may  not  browse  upon, 

As  they  pass  him  in  their  rambling.1 
Why  should  this  tall  and  dainty  man 

Be  so  in  love  wTith  gambling?  12 

Well,  I must  pacify  Mathura.  [He  approaches .]  How  do  you  do, 
Mathura?  [Mathura  returns  the  greeting .] 

Darduraka.  What  does  this  mean? 

Mathura.  He  owes  me  ten  gold-pieces. 

Darduraka.  A mere  bagatelle! 

Mathura.  [Pulling  the  rolled-up  cloak  from  under  Darduraka s 
arm.]  Look,  gentlemen,  look!  The  man  in  the  ragged  cloak  calls 
ten  gold-pieces  a mere  bagatelle. 

Darduraka.  My  good  fool,  don’t  I risk  ten  gold-pieces  on  a cast 
of  the  dice?  Suppose  a man  has  money — is  that  any  reason  why 
he  should  put  it  in  his  bosom  and  show  it?  But  you, 

You’ll  lose  your  caste,  you’ll  lose  your  soul, 

For  ten  gold-pieces  that  he  stole, 

To  kill  a man  that’s  sound  and  whole, 

With  five  good  senses  in  him.  13 

Mathura.  Ten  gold-pieces  may  be  a mere  bagatelle  to  you,  sir.  To 
me  they  are  a fortune. 

Darduraka.  Well  then,  listen  to  me.  Just  give  him  ten  more,  and 
let  him  go  to  gambling  again. 

Mathura.  And  what  then? 

Darduraka.  If  he  wrins,  he  will  pay  you. 

1 See  note  on  page  33. 


p.63.12]  THE  SHAMPOOER  WHO  GAMBLED  35 

Mathura.  And  if  he  does  n’t  win  ? 

Darduraka.  Then  he  won’t  pay  you. 

Mathura.  This  is  no  time  for  nonsense.  If  you  say  that,  you  can 
give  him  the  money  yourself.  My  name  is  Mathura.  I ’m  a swindler 
and  I play  a crooked  game,  and  I’m  not  afraid  of  anybody.  You 
are  an  immoral  scoundrel. 

Darduraka.  Who  did  you  say  was  immoral? 

Mathura.  You  ’re  immoral. 

Darduraka.  Your  father  is  immoral.  [He  gives  the  shampooer  a 
sign  to  escape.  ] 

Mathura.  You  cur!  That  is  just  the  way  that  you  gamble. 
Darduraka.  That  is  the  way  I gamble? 

Mathura.  Come,  shampooer,  pay  me  my  ten  gold-pieces. 

\ 

Shampooer.  I ’ll  pay  you  this  very  day.  I ’ll  pay  at  once.  [. Mathura 
drags  him  about.  ] 

Darduraka.  Fool!  You  may  maltreat  him  when  I am  away,  but 
not  before  my  eyes. 

[. Mathura  seizes  the  shampooer  and  hits  him  on  the  nose.  The  sham- 
pooer bleeds,  faints,  and  falls  flat.  Darduraka  approaches  and  in- 
terferes. Mathura  strikes  Darduraka,  and  Darduraka  strikes  back. ] 
Mathura.  Oh,  oh,  you  accursed  hound!  But  I’ll  pay  you  for  this. 
Darduraka.  My  good  fool,  I was  walking  peaceably  along  the 
street,  and  you  struck  me.  If  you  strike  me  to-morrow  in  court, 
then  you  will  open  your  eyes. 

Mathura.  Yes,  I’ll  open  my  eyes. 

Darduraka.  How  will  you  open  your  eyes? 

Mathura.  [Opening  his  eyes  wide.]  This  is  the  way  I’ll  open  my 
eyes. 

[Darduraka  throws  dust  in  Mathura' s eyes,  and  gives  the  shampooer 
a sign  to  escape.  Mathura  shuts  his  eyes  and  falls  down.  The  sham- 
pooer escapes.] 


36 


ACT  THE  SECOND 


[35.20  S. 


Darduraka.  [Aside.]  I have  made  an  enemy  of  the  influential 
gambling-master  Mathura.  I had  better  not  stay  here.  Besides,  my 
good  friend  Sharvilaka  told  me  that  a young  herdsman  named 
Aryaka  has  been  designated  by  a soothsayer  as  our  future  king. 
Now  everybody  in  my  condition  is  running  after  him.  I think  I 
will  join  myself  to  him.  [Exit. 

Shampooer.  [ Trembles  as  he  walks  away  and  looks  about  him.]  Here 
is  a house  where  somebody  has  left  the  side-door  open.  I will  go 
in.  [He  enters  and  perceives  V asantasena.]  Madam,  I throw  my- 
self upon  your  protection. 

Vasantasena.  He  who  throws  himself  upon  my  protection  shall  be 
safe.  Close  the  door,  girl.  [ The  maid  does  so.] 

Vasantasena.  What  do  you  fear? 

Shampooer.  A creditor,  madam. 

Vasantasena.  You  may  open  the  door  now,  girl. 

Shampooer.  [To  himself.]  Ah!  Her  reasons  for  not  fearing  a credi- 
tor are  in  proportion  to  her  innocence.  The  proverb  is  right : 

The  man  who  knows  his  strength  and  bears  a load 
Proportioned  to  that  strength,  not  more  nor  less, 

Is  safe  from  stumbling  and  from  sore  distress, 

Although  he  wander  on  a dreary  road.  14 

That  means  me. 

Mathura.  [Wiping  his  eyes.  To  the  gambler.]  Pay,  pay! 

Gambler.  While  we  were  quarreling  with  Darduraka,  sir,  the 
man  escaped. 

Mathura.  I broke  that  shampooer’s  nose  for  him  with  my  fist. 
Come  on ! Let ’s  trace  him  by  the  blood.  [ They  do  so.] 

Gambler.  He  went  into  Vasantasenas  house,  sir. 

Mathura.  Then  that  is  the  end  of  the  gold-pieces. 

Gambler.  Let ’s  go  to  court  and  lodge  a complaint. 


p er  i]  THE  SHAMPOOER  WHO  GAMBLED 


37 


Mathura.  The  swindler  would  leave  the  house  and  escape.  No,  we 
must  besiege  him  and  so  capture  him. 

[ Vasantasena  gives  Madanika  a sign.] 

Madanika.  Whence  are  you,  sir?  or  who  are  you,  sir?  or  "whose  son 
are  you,  sir  ? or  what  is  your  business,  sir  ? or  what  are  you  afraid  of? 
Shampooer.  Listen,  madam.  My  birthplace  is  Pataliputra,  madam. 
I am  the  son  of  a householder.  I practise  the  trade  of  a shampooer. 
Vasantasena.  It  is  a very  dainty  art,  sir,  which  you  have  mastered. 
Shampooer.  Madam,  as  an  art  I mastered  it.  It  has  now  become  a 
mere  trade. 

Madanika.  Your  answers  are  most  disconsolate,  sir.  Pray  continue. 
Shampooer.  Yes,  madam.  When  I was  at  home,  I used  to  hear 
travelers  tell  tales,  and  I wanted  to  see  new  countries,  and  so  I 
came  here.  And  when  I had  come  here  to  Ujjayinl,  I became  the 
servant  of  a noble  gentleman.  Such  a handsome,  courteous  gentle- 
man ! When  he  gave  money  away,  he  did  not  boast ; when  he  was 
injured,  he  forgot  it.  To  cut  a long  story  short : he  was  so  courteous 
that  he  regarded  his  own  person  as  the  possession  of  others,  and 
had  compassion  on  all  who  sought  his  protection. 

Madanika.  Who  may  it  be  that  adorns  Ujjayinl  with  the  virtues 
which  he  has  stolen  from  the  object  of  my  mistress’  desires? 
Vasantasena.  Good,  girl,  good!  I had  the  same  thought  in  mind. 
Madanika.  But  to  continue,  sir— 

Shampooer.  Madam,  he  was  so  compassionate  and  so  generous  that 
now — 

Vasantasena.  His  riches  have  vanished  ? 

Shampooer.  I didn’t  say  it.  How  did  you  guess  it,  madam? 

V isantasena.  What  was  there  to  guess?  Virtue  and  money  seldom 
keep  company.  In  the  pools  from  which  men  cannot  drink  there 
is  so  much  the  more  water. 

Madanika.  But  sir,  what  is  his  name? 


38 


ACT  THE  SECOND 


[37.25  S. 


Shampooer.  Madam,  who  does  not  know  the  name  of  this  moon 
of  the  whole  world?  He  lives  in  the  merchants’  quarter.  He  whose 
name  is  worthy  of  all  honor  is  named  Charudatta. 

Vasantasena . [ Joyfully  rising  from  her  seat.']  Sir,  this  house  is  your 
own.  Give  him  a seat,  girl,  and  take  this  fan.  The  gentleman  is 
weary.  [ Madanika  does  as  she  is  hid.] 

Shampooer.  [Aside.]  What!  so  much  honor  because  I mentioned 
Charudatta’s  name?  Heaven  bless  you,  Charudatta!  You  are  the 
only  man  in  the  world  who  really  lives.  All  others  merely  breathe. 
[He  falls  at  V asantasenas  feet.]  Enough,  madam,  enough.  Pray 
be  seated,  madam. 

Vasantasena.  [Seating  herself]  Where  is  he  who  is  so  richly  your 
creditor,  sir? 

Shamp.  The  good  man’s  wealth  consists  in  kindly  deeds ; 

All  other  wealth  is  vain  and  quickly  flies. 

The  man  who  honors  not  his  neighbor’s  needs, 

Does  that  man  know  what  honor  signifies?  15 

Vasantasena.  But  to  continue — 

Shampooer.  So  I became  a servant  in  his  employ.  And  when  his 
wealth  was  reduced  to  his  virtue,  I began  to  live  by  gambling.  But 
fate  was  cruel,  and  1 lost  ten  gold-pieces. 

Mathura.  I am  ruined ! I am  robbed ! 

Shampooer.  There  are  the  gambling-master  and  the  gambler,  look- 
ing for  me.  You  have  heard  my  story,  madam.  The  rest  is  your 
affair. 

Vasantasena.  Madanika,  the  birds  fly  everywhither  when  the  tree 
is  shaken  in  which  they  have  their  nests.  Go,  girl,  and  give  the 
gambling-master  and  the  gambler  this  bracelet.  And  tell  them  that 
this  gentleman  sends  it.  [She  removes  a bracelet  from  her  arm,  and 
gives  it  to  Madanika.] 

Madanika.  [Receiving  the  bracelet.]  Yes,  mistress.  [She  goes  out.] 


P.71.2]  THE  SHAMPOOER  WHO  GAMBLED  39 
Mathura.  I am  ruined ! I am  robbed ! 

Madanika.  Inasmuch  as  these  two  are  looking  up  to  heaven,  and 
sighing,  and  chattering,  and  fastening  their  eyes  on  the  door,  I 
conclude  that  they  must  be  the  gambling-master  and  the  gambler. 
[. Approaching .]  I salute  you,  sir. 

Mathura.  May  happiness  be  yours. 

Madanika.  Sir,  which  of  you  is  the  gambling-master? 

Math.  O maiden,  fair  but  something  less  than  shy. 

With  red  lip  wounded  in  love’s  ardent  play, 

On  whom  is  bent  that  sweet,  coquettish  eye? 

For  whom  that  lisp  that  steals  the  heart  away?  16 
I have  n’t  got  any  money.  You’ll  have  to  look  somewhere  else. 
Madanika.  You  are  certainly  no  gambler,  if  you  talk  that  way. 
Is  there  any  one  who  owes  you  money? 

Mathura.  There  is.  He  owes  ten  gold-pieces.  What  of  him? 
Madanika.  In  his  behalf  my  mistress  sends  you  this  bracelet.  No, 
no!  He  sends  it  himself. 

Mathura.  [Seizing  it  joyfully.  ] Well,  well,  you  may  tell  the  noble 
youth  that  his  account  is  squared.  Let  him  come  and  seek  delight 
again  in  gambling.  [. Exeunt  Mathura  and  the  gambler. 

Madanika.  [ Returning  to  Vasantasena.]  Mistress,  the  gambling- 
master  and  the  gambler  have  gone  away  well-pleased. 

V i asantasena.  Go,  sir,  and  comfort  your  kinsfolk. 

Shampooer.  Ah,  madam,  if  it  may  be,  these  hands  would  gladly 
practise  their  art  in  your  service. 

Vasantasena.  But  sir,  he  for  whose  sake  you  mastered  the  art, 
who  first  received  your  service,  he  should  have  your  service  still. 
Shampooer.  [Aside.]  A very  pretty  way  to  decline  my  services. 
How  shall  I repay  her  kindness?  [Aloud.]  Madam,  thus  dishon- 
ored as  a gambler,  I shall  become  a Buddhist  monk.  And  so, 


40 


ACT  THE  SECOND 


[40.1  S. 


madam,  treasure  these  words  in  your  memory:  “He  was  a sham- 
pooer,  a gambler,  a Buddhist  monk.” 

Vasantasena.  Sir,  you  must  not  act  too  precipitately. 

Shampooer.  Madam,  my  mind  is  made  up.  [He  walks  about.'] 

I gambled,  and  in  gambling  I did  fall, 

Till  every  one  beheld  me  with  dismay. 

Now  I shall  show  my  honest  face  to  all, 

And  walk  abroad  upon  the  king’s  highway.  17 

[Tumultuous  cries  behind  the  scenes.] 

Shampooer.  [Listening.]  What  is  this?  What  is  this?  [Addressing 
some  one  behind  the  scenes.]  What  did  you  say?  “Post-breaker, 
Vasantasena  s rogue  elephant,  is  at  liberty!”  Hurrah!  I must  go 
and  see  the  lady’s  best  elephant.  No,  no!  What  have  I to  do  with 
these  things  ? I must  hold  to  my  resolution.  [Eocit. 

[Then  enter  hastily  Karnapuraka,  highly  delighted,  wearing  a gor- 
geous mantle.] 

Karnapuraka.  Where  is  she?  Where  is  my  mistress? 

Madanika.  Insolent!  What  can  it  be  that  so  excites  you?  You  do 
not  see  your  mistress  before  your  very  eyes. 

Karnapuraka.  [Perceiving  Vasantasena.]  Mistress,  my  service  to 
you. 

Vasantasena.  Karnapuraka,  your  face  is  beaming.  What  is  it? 
Karnapuraka.  [Proudly.]  Oh,  mistress!  You  missed  it!  You  didn’t 
see  Karnapuraka’s  heroism  to-day! 

Vasantasena.  What,  Karnapuraka,  what? 

Karnapuraka.  Listen.  Post-breaker,  my  mistress’  rogue  elephant, 
broke  the  stake  he  was  tied  to,  killed  his  keeper,  and  ran  into  the 
street,  making  a terrible  commotion.  You  should  have  heard  the 
people  shriek, 

Take  care  of  the  babies,  as  quick  as  you  can, 

And  climb  up  a roof  or  a tree ! 


P.  74.14] 


THE  SHAMPOOER  WHO  GAMBLED 


41 


The  elephant  rogue  wants  the  blood  of  a man. 

Escape!  Run  away!  Can’t  you  see?  18 

And: 

How  they  lose  their  ankle-rings ! 

Girdles,  set  with  gems  and  things. 

Break  away  from  fastenings! 

As  they  stumble,  trip,  and  blunder, 

See  the  bracelets  snap  asunder, 

Each  a tangled,  pearly  wonder!  19 

And  that  rogue  of  an  elephant  dives  with  his  trunk  and  his  feet 
and  his  tusks  into  the  city  of  Ujjayinl,  as  if  it  were  a lotus-pond 
in  full  flower.  At  last  he  comes  upon  a Buddhist  monk.1  And 
while  the  man’s  staff  and  his  water-jar  and  his  begging-bowl  fly 
every  which  way,  he  drizzles  water  over  him  and  gets  him  be- 
tween his  tusks.  The  people  see  him  and  begin  to  shriek  again, 
crying  “Oh,  oh,  the  monk  is  killed!” 

Vasantasena.  \Anociously.~\  Oh,  what  carelessness,  what  careless- 
ness! 

Karnapuraka.  Don’t  be  frightened.  Just  listen,  mistress.  Then, 
with  a big  piece  of  the  broken  chain  dangling  about  him,  he  picked 
him  up,  picked  up  the  monk  between  his  tusks,  and  just  then 
Karnapuraka  saw  him,  I saw  him,  no,  no!  the  slave  who  grows 
fat  on  my  mistress’  rice-cakes  saw  him,  stumbled  with  his  left 
foot  over  a gambler’s  score,  grabbed  up  an  iron  pole  out  of  a shop, 
and  challenged  the  mad  elephant — 

Vasantasena.  Go  on!  Go  on! 

Karnap.  I hit  him — in  a fit  of  passion,  too — 

He  really  looked  like  some  great  mountain  peak. 

And  from  between  those  tusks  of  his  I drew 

The  sacred  hermit  meek.  20 

Vasantasena.  Splendid,  splendid!  But  go  on! 

Karnapuraka.  Then,  mistress,  all  Ujjayinl  tipped  over  to  one  side, 

1 The  shampooer,  whose  transformation  is  astonishingly  sudden. 


42 


ACT  THE  SECOND 


[41.19  S. 


like  a ship  loaded  unevenly,  and  you  could  hear  nothing  but  “Hur- 
rah, hurrah  for  Karnapuraka!”  Then,  mistress,  a man  touched  the 
places  where  he  ought  to  have  ornaments,  and,  finding  that  he 
had  n't  any,  looked  up,  heaved  a long  sigh,  and  threw  this  mantle 
over  me. 

Vasantasena.  Find  out,  Karnapuraka,  whether  the  mantle  is  per- 
fumed with  jasmine  or  not. 

Karnapuraka.  Mistress,  the  elephant  perfume  is  so  strong  that  I 
can’t  tell  for  sure. 

Vasantasena.  Then  look  at  the  name. 

Karnapuraka.  Here  is  the  name.  You  may  read  it,  mistress.  [He 
hands  her  the  mantle.] 

Vasantasena.  [ Reads.']  Charudatta.  [She  seizes  the  mantle  eagerly 
and  wraps  it  about  her.] 

Madanika.  The  mantle  is  very  becoming  to  her,  Karnapuraka. 
Karnapuraka.  Oh,  yes,  the  mantle  is  becoming  enough. 
Vasantasena.  Here  is  your  reward,  Karnapuraka.  [She  gives  him 
a gem.] 

Karnapuraka.  [ Taking  it  and  bowing  low.]  Now  the  mantle  is 
most  wonderfully  becoming. 

Vasantasena.  Karnapuraka,  where  is  Charudatta  now? 
Karnapuraka.  He  started  to  go  home  along  this  very  street. 
Vasantasena.  Come,  girl!  Let  us  go  to  the  upper  balcony  and  see 
Charudatta.  [. Exeunt  omnes. 


ACT  THE  THIRD 


THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL 

[ Enter  Charudatta  s servant,  V ardhamanaka.\ 

Vardh.  \ MASTER,  kindly  and  benevolent, 

d\.  His  servants  love,  however  poor  he  be. 

The  purse-proud,  with  a will  on  harshness  bent, 

Pays  service  in  the  coin  of  cruelty.  1 

And  again : 

A bullock  greedy  for  a feast  of  corn 
You  never  can  prevent; 

A wife  who  wants  her  lord  to  wear  a horn 
You  never  can  prevent; 

A man  who  loves  to  gamble  night  and  morn 
You  never  can  prevent; 

And  blemishes1  that  with  a man  are  born 

You  never  can  prevent.  2 

It  is  some  time  since  Charudatta  went  to  the  concert.  It  is  past 
midnight,  and  still  he  does  not  come.  I think  I will  go  into  the 
outer  hall  and  take  a nap.  [He  does  so.] 


[Enter  Charudatta  and  Maitreya .] 

Charudatta.  How  beautifully  Rebhila  sang!  The  lute  is  indeed  a 
pearl,  a pearl  not  of  the  ocean. 

Gently  the  anxious  lover’s  heart  befriending, 

Consoling  when  true  lovers  may  not  meet, 

To  love-lorn  souls  the  dearest  comforts  sending, 

It  adds  to  sweetest  love  its  more  of  sweet.  3 

Maitreya.  W ell  then,  let ’s  go  into  the  house. 

Charudatta.  But  how  wonderfully  Master  Rebhila  sang! 


1 This  refers  to  Charudatta’s  generosity,  which  continues  after  his  wealth  has  vanished. 


44 


ACT  THE  THIRD 


[44. 1 S. 


Maitreya.  There  are  just  two  things  that  always  make  me  laugh. 
One  is  a woman  talking  Sanskrit,  and  the  other  is  a man  who  tries 
to  sing  soft  and  low.  Now  when  a woman  talks  Sanskrit,  she  is  like 
a heifer  with  a new  rope  through  her  nose;  all  you  hear  is  “soo, 
soo,  soo.”  And  when  a man  tries  to  sing  soft  and  low,  he  reminds 
me  of  an  old  priest  muttering  texts,  while  the  flowers  in  his  chaplet 
dry  up.  No,  I don't  like  it! 

Charudatta.  My  friend,  Master  Rebhila  sang  most  wonderfully 
this  evening.  And  still  you  are  not  satisfied. 

The  notes  of  love,  peace,  sweetness,  could  I trace, 

The  note  that  thrills,  the  note  of  passion  too, 

The  note  of  woman’s  loveliness  and  grace — 

Ah,  my  poor  -words  add  nothing,  nothing  new! 

But  as  the  notes  in  sweetest  cadence  rang, 

I thought  it  -was  my  hidden  love  -who  sang.  4 

The  melody  of  song,  the  stricken  strings 
In  undertone  that  half-unconscious  clings, 

More  clearly  sounding  -when  the  passions  rise, 

But  ever  sweeter  as  the  music  dies. 

Words  that  strong  passion  fain  would  say  again, 

Yet  checks  their  second  utterance — in  vain; 

For  music  sweet  as  this  fives  on,  until 
I walk  as  hearing  sweetest  music  still.  5 

Maitreya.  But  see,  my  friend ! The  very  dogs  are  sound  asleep  in 
the  shops  that  look  out  on  the  market.  Let  us  go  home.  [He  looks 
before  him.']  Look,  look ! The  blessed  moon  seems  to  give  place  to 
darkness,  as  she  descends  from  her  palace  in  heaven. 

Charudatta.  True. 

The  moon  gives  place  to  darkness  as  she  dips 
Behind  the  -western  mountain ; and  the  tips 
Of  her  uplifted  horns  alone  appear, 

Like  two  sharp-pointed  tusks  uplifted  clear, 


P.  82.1] 


THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL 


45 


Where  bathes  an  elephant  in  waters  cool, 

Who  shows  naught  else  above  the  jungle  pool.  6 

Maitreya.  Well,  here  is  our  house.  Yardhamanaka,  Yardhamanaka, 
open  the  door! 

Yardhamanaka.  I hear  Maitreya’s  voice.  Charudatta  has  returned. 
I must  open  the  door  for  him.  [He  does  so.]  Master,  I salute  you. 
Maitreya,  I salute  you  too.  The  couch  is  ready.  Pray  be  seated. 
[Charudatta  and  Maitreya  enter  and  scat  themselves .] 

Maitreya.  Yardhamanaka,  call  Radanika  to  wash  our  feet. 
Charudatta.  [Compassionately. ] She  sleeps.  Do  not  wake  her. 
Yardhamanaka.  I will  bring  the  water,  Maitreya,  and  you  may 
wash  Charudatta’s  feet. 

Maitreya.  [Angrily. ~]  Look,  man.  He  acts  like  the  son  of  a slave 
that  he  is,  for  he  is  bringing  water.  But  he  makes  me  wash  your 
feet,  and  I am  a Brahman. 

Charudatta.  Good  Maitreya,  do  you  bring  the  water,  and  Vardha- 
manaka  shall  wash  my  feet. 

Yardhamanaka.  Yes,  Maitreya.  Do  you  bring  the  water.  [Maitreya 
does  so.  Yardhamanaka  zvashes  Charudatta  s feet,  then  moves  aicay.~\ 
Charudatta.  Let  water  be  brought  for  the  Brahman’s  feet. 
Maitreya.  What  good  does  water  do  my  feet?  I shall  have  to  roll 
in  the  dirt  again,  like  a beaten  ass. 

Yardhamanaka.  Maitreya,  you  are  a Brahman. 

Maitreya.  Yes,  like  a slow-worm  among  all  the  other  snakes,  so 
am  I a Brahman  among  all  the  other  Brahmans. 

Yardhamanaka.  Maitreya,  I will  wash  your  feet  after  all.  [He  does 
50.]  Maitreya,  this  golden  casket  I was  to  keep  by  day,  you  by 
night.  Take  it.  [He  gives  it  to  Maitreya,  then  exit. 

Maitreya.  [Receiving  the  casket .]  The  thing  is  here  still.  Is  n’t  there 
a single  thief  in  UjjayinI  to  steal  the  wretch  that  robs  me  of  my 
sleep  ? Listen.  I am  going  to  take  it  into  the  inner  court. 


46 


ACT  THE  THIRD 


[46.1  S. 


Charud.  Such  lax  attention  we  can  ill  afford. 

If  we  are  trusted  by  a courtezan, 

Then,  Brahman,  prove  yourself  an  honest  man, 

And  guard  it  safely,  till  it  be  restored.  7 

[He  nods,  repeating  the  stanza  “The  melody  of  song,  the  stricken 
strings : ” page  44.] 

Maitreya.  Are  you  going  to  sleep? 

Charudatta.  Yes,  so  it  seems. 

For  conquering  sleep,  descending  on  mine  eyes, 

First  smites  the  brow  with  unresisted  blow; 

Unseen,  elusive,  like  old  age,  she  tries 

To  gather  strength  by  weakening  her  foe.  8 

Maitreya.  Then  let’s  go  to  sleep.  [He  does  ,vo.] 

[Enter  Sharvilaka .*] 

Sharv.  I made  an  entrance  for  my  body’s  round 

By  force  of  art  and  arms,  a path  to  deeds ! 

I skinned  my  sides  by  crawling  on  the  ground, 

Like  a snake  that  sloughs  the  skin  no  longer  sound ; 

And  now  I go  where  my  profession  leads.  9 

[He  gazes  at  the  sky.  Joyfully. ] See!  The  blessed  moon  is  setting. 
For  well  I know, 

My  trade  would  fain  from  watchmen’s  eyes  be  shrouded; 

Valiant,  I force  the  dwelling  of  another. 

But  see,  the  stars  in  deepest  dark  are  clouded, 

And  the  night  shields  me  like  a careful  mother.  10 
I made  a breach  in  the  orchard  wall  and  entered.  And  now  I 
must  force  my  way  into  the  inner  court  as  well. 

Yes,  let  men  call  it  vulgar,  if  they  will, 

The  trade  that  thrives  while  sleeps  the  sleepyhead ; 

Yes,  knavery,  not  bravery,  call  it  still, 

To  overreach  confiding  folk  a-bed. 

1 The  following  scene  satirizes  the  Hindu  love  of  system  and  classification. 


P.  85.9] 


THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL 


47 


Far  better  blame  and  hissing,  fairly  won, 

Than  the  pay  of  genuflecting  underlings; 

This  antique  path  was  trod  by  Drona’s  son, 

Who  slew  the  sleeping,  unsuspecting  kings.  11 

But  where  shall  I make  the  breach? 

Where  is  the  spot  which  falling  drops  decayed? 

For  each  betraying  sound  is  deadened  there. 

No  yawning  breach  should  in  the  walls  be  made, 

So  treatises  on  robbery  declare. 

Where  does  the  palace  crumble?  Where  the  place 
That  niter-eaten  bricks  false  soundness  wear? 

Where  shall  I ’scape  the  sight  of  woman’s  face? 

Fulfilment  of  my  wishes  waits  me  there.  12 

[He  feels  the  tea//.]  Here  is  a spot  weakened  by  constant  sun  and 
sprinkling  and  eaten  by  saltpeter  rot.  And  here  is  a pile  of  dirt 
thrown  up  by  a mouse.  Now  heaven  be  praised!  My  venture  pro- 
spers. This  is  the  first  sign  of  success  for  Skanda’s1  sons.  Now  first 
of  all,  how  shall  I make  the  breach?  The  blessed  Bearer  of  the 
Golden  Lance2  has  prescribed  four  varieties  of  breach,  thus:  if 
the  bricks  are  baked,  pull  them  out;  if  they  are  unbaked,  cut 
them ; if  they  are  made  of  earth,  wet  them ; if  they  are  made  of 
wood,  split  them.  Here  we  have  baked  bricks ; ergo,  pull  out  the 
bricks. 

Now  what  shall  be  the  shape  I give  the  breach? 

A “lotus,”  “cistern,”  “crescent  moon,”  or  “sun”? 
“Oblong,”  or  “cross,”  or  “bulging  pot”?  for  each 
The  treatises  permit.  Which  one?  which  one? 

And  where  shall  I display  my  sovereign  skill, 

That  in  the  morning  men  may  wonder  still?  13 

In  this  wall  of  baked  bricks,  the  “bulging  pot”  would  be  effective. 
I will  make  that. 


1 The  patron  saint  of  thieves. 


2 An  epithet  of  Skanda. 


48 


ACT  THE  THIRD 


[47.16  S. 


At  other  walls  that  I have  pierced  by  night, 

And  at  my  less  successful  ventures  too, 

The  crowd  of  neighbors  gazed  by  morning  light, 

Assigning  praise  or  blame,  as  was  my  due.  14 

Praise  to  the  boon-conferring  god,  to  Skanda  of  immortal  youth ! 
Praise  to  him,  the  Bearer  of  the  Golden  Lance,  the  Brahman’s 
god,  the  pious!  Praise  to  him,  the  Child  of  the  Sun ! Praise  to  him, 
the  teacher  of  magic,  whose  first  pupil  I am!  For  he  found  plea- 
sure in  me  and  gave  me  magic  ointment. 

With  which  so  I anointed  be, 

No  watchman’s  eye  my  form  shall  see; 

And  edged  sword  that  falls  on  me 

From  cruel  wounds  shall  leave  me  free.  15 

[He  anoints  himself.']  Alas,  I have  forgotten  my  measuring  line. 
[Reflecting.]  Aha!  This  sacred  cord1  shall  be  my  measuring  line. 
Yes,  the  sacred  cord  is  a great  blessing  to  a Brahman,  especially  to 
one  like  me.  For,  you  see, 

With  this  he  measures,  ere  he  pierce  a wall, 

And  picks  the  lock,  when  jewels  are  at  stake. 

It  serves  as  key  to  bolted  door  and  hall, 

As  tourniquet  for  bite  of  worm  and  snake.  16 

The  measuring  is  done.  I begin  my  task.  [He  does  so,  then  takes  a 
look.]  My  breach  lacks  but  a single  brick.  Alas,  I am  bitten  by  a 
snake.  [He  binds  his  finger  with  the  sacred  cord,  and  manifests  the 
workings  of  poison.]  I have  applied  the  remedy,  and  now  I am  re- 
stored. [He  continues  his  work,  then  gazes.]  Ah,  there  burns  a can- 
dle. See! 

Though  jealous  darkness  hems  it  round, 

The  golden-yellow  candle  from  its  place 
Shines  through  the  breach  upon  the  ground, 

Like  a streak  of  gold  upon  the  touchstone’s  face.  17 

1 The  sacrificial  cord,  which  passes  over  the  left  shoulder  and  under  the  right  arm,  is  worn  con- 
stantly by  members  of  the  three  upper  castes. 


P.  87.9] 


THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL 


49 


[He  returns  to  his  work.']  The  breach  is  finished.  Good!  I enter. 
But  no,  I will  not  enter  yet.  I will  shove  a dummy  in.  [He  does 
^0.]  Ah,  no  one  is  there.  Praise  be  to  Skanda!  [He  enters  and  looks 
about.]  See!  Two  men  asleep.  Come,  for  my  own  protection  I will 
open  the  door.  But  the  house  is  old  and  the  door  squeaks.  I must 
look  for  water.  Now  where  might  water  be?  [He  looks  about, finds 
water,  and  sprinkles  the  door.  Anxiously.]  I hope  it  will  not  fall 
upon  the  floor  and  make  a noise.  Come,  this  is  the  way.  [He  puts 
his  back  against  the  door  and  opens  it  cautiously.]  Good!  So  much 
for  that.  Now  I must  discover  whether  these  two  are  feigning 
sleep,  or  whether  they  are  asleep  in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the 
term.  [He  tries  to  terrifiy  them,  and  notes  the  effect.]  Yes,  they  must 
be  asleep  in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the  term.  F or  see ! 

Their  breath  first  calmly  rises,  ere  it  sink; 

Its  regularity  all  fear  defies. 

Unmoving  in  their  socket-holes,  the  eyes 
Are  tightly  closed,  and  never  seem  to  wink. 

The  limbs  relaxed,  at  ease  the  bodies  lie, 

I see  their  feet  beyond  the  bedstead  peep, 

The  lighted  candle  vexes  not  the  eye ; 

It  would,  if  they  were  only  feigning  sleep.  18 

[He  looks  about  kirn.]  What!  a drum?  And  here  is  a flute.  And 
here,  a snare-drum.  And  here,  a lute.  And  reed-pipes.  And  yon- 
der, manuscripts.  Is  this  the  house  of  a dancing-master?  But  no! 
When  I entered,  I was  convinced  that  this  was  a palatial  residence. 
Now  then,  is  this  man  poor  in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the  term,  or, 
from  fear  of  the  king  or  of  thieves,  does  he  keep  his  property 
buried?  Well,  my  own  property  is  buried,  too.  But  I will  scatter 
the  seeds  that  betray  subterranean  gold.  [He  does  50.]  The  scat- 
tered seeds  nowhere  swell  up.  Ah,  he  is  poor  in  the  fullest  mean- 
ing of  the  term.  Good ! I go. 

Maitreya.  [Talking  in  his  sleep.]  Look,  man.  I see  something  like 


50 


ACT  THE  THIRD 


[4.9.7  s. 


a hole  in  the  wall.  I see  something  like  a thief.  You  had  better 
take  this  golden  casket. 

Sharvilaka.  I wonder  if  the  man  has  discovered  that  I have  en- 
tered, and  is  showing  off  his  poverty  in  order  to  make  fun  of  me. 
Shall  I kill  him,  or  is  the  poor  devil  talking  in  his  sleep  ? [He  takes 
a look. ] But  see!  This  thing  wrapped  in  a ragged  bath-clout,  now 
that  I inspect  it  by  the  light  of  my  candle,  is  in  truth  a jewel- 
casket.  Suppose  I take  it.  But  no!  It  is  hardly  proper  to  rob  a 
man  of  good  birth,  who  is  as  poor  as  I am.  I go. 

Maitreya.  My  friend,  by  the  wishes  of  cows  and  Brahmans 1 1 con- 
jure you  to  take  this  golden  casket. 

Sharvilaka.  One  may  not  disregard  the  sacred  wish  of  a cow  and 
the  wish  of  a Brahman.  I will  take  it.  But  look ! There  burns  the 
candle.  I keep  about  me  a moth  for  the  express  purpose  of  extin- 
guishing candles.  I will  let  him  enter  the  flame.  This  is  his  place 
and  hour.  May  this  moth  which  I here  release,  depart  to  flutter 
above  the  flame  in  varying  circles.  The  breeze  from  the  insect’s 
wings  has  translated  the  flame  into  accursed  darkness.  Or  shall  I 
not  rather  curse  the  darkness  brought  by  me  upon  my  Brahmanic 
family?  For  my  father  was  a man  who  knew  the  four  Vedas,  who 
would  not  accept  a gift;  and  I,  Sharvilaka,  his  son,  and  a Brah- 
man, I am  committing  a crime  for  the  sake  of  that  courtezan  girl 
Madanika.  Vow  I will  grant  the  Brahman’s  wish.  [He  reaches  out 
for  the  casket.  ] 

Maitreya.  How  cold  your  fingers  are,  man! 

Sharvilaka.  What  carelessness ! My  fingers  are  cold  from  touch- 
ing water.  Well,  I will  put  my  hand  in  my  armpit.  [He  vcarms 
his  left  hand  and  takes  the  easket.~\ 

Maitreya.  Have  you  got  it  ? 

Sharvilaka.  I could  not  refuse  a Brahman’s  request.  I have  it. 


1 Sacred  creatures. 


51 


p.  89. 9]  THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL 

Maitreya.  Now  I shall  sleep  as  peacefully  as  a merchant  who  has 
sold  his  wares. 

Sharvilaka.  O great  Brahman,  sleep  a hundred  years!  Alas  that  a 
Brahman  family  should  thus  be  plunged  in  darkness  for  the  sake 
of  Madanika,  a courtezan!  Or  better,  I myself  am  thus  plunged 
in  darkness. 

A curse  on  poverty,  I say! 

’T  is  stranger  to  the  manly  will ; 

This  act  that  shuns  the  light  of  day 

I curse  indeed,  but  do  it  still.  19 

Well  then,  I must  go  to  Vasantasenas  house  to  buy  Madanika  s 
freedom.  [He  walks  about  and  looks  around  him.']  Ah,  I think  I 
hear  footsteps.  I hope  they  are  not  those  of  policemen.  Never  mind. 
I will  pretend  to  be  a pillar,  and  wait.  But  after  all,  do  policemen 
exist  for  me,  for  Sharvilaka?  Why,  I am 

A cat  for  crawling,  and  a deer  for  flight, 

A hawk  for  rending,  and  a dog  for  sight 
To  judge  the  strength  of  men  that  wake  or  sleep, 

A snake,  when ’t  is  advisable  to  creep, 

Illusion’s  self,  to  seem  a saint  or  rogue, 

Goddess  of  Speech  in  understanding  brogue; 

A light  in  blackest  night,  in  holes  a lizard  I can  be, 

A horse  on  terra  firma,  and  a ship  upon  the  sea.  20 

And  again: 

Quick  as  a snake,  and  steady  as  a hill; 

In  flight  the  prince  of  birds  can  show  no  greater  skill; 

In  searching  on  the  ground  I am  as  keen  as  any  hare, 

In  strength  I am  a lion,  and  a wolf  to  rend  and  tear.  21 

Radanika.  [Entering.]  Dear  me!  Vardhamanaka  went  to  sleep 
in  the  outer  court,  and  now  he  is  not  there.  Well,  I will  call 
Maitreya.  [She  walks  about.] 


52 


ACT  THE  THIRD 


[51.1  S. 


Sharvilaka.  [. Prepares  to  strike  down  Radanika,  but  first  takes  a 
look.]  What!  a woman?  Good!  I go.  [Exit. 

Radanika.  [ Recoiling  in  terror .]  Oh,  oh,  a thief  has  cut  a hole  in 
the  wall  of  our  house  and  is  escaping.  I must  go  and  wake  Mai- 
treya.  [She  approaches  Maitreya .]  Oh,  Maitreya,  get  up,  get  up! 
A thief  has  cut  a hole  in  the  wall  of  our  house  and  has  escaped. 
Maitreya.  [Rising.]  What  do  you  mean,  wench?  “A  hole  in  the 
wall  has  cut  a thief  and  has  escaped”? 

Radanika.  Poor  fool!  Stop  your  joking.  Don’t  you  see  it? 
Maitreya.  What  do  you  mean,  wench?  “It  looks  as  if  a second 
door  had  been  thrown  open”  ? Get  up,  friend  Charudatta,  get  up ! 
A thief  has  made  a hole  in  the  wall  of  our  house  and  has  escaped. 
Charudatta.  Yes,  yes!  A truce  to  your  jests! 

Maitreya.  But  it  isn’t  a jest.  Look! 

Charudatta.  Where? 

Maitreya.  Why,  here. 

Charudatta.  [Gazing.]  What  a very  remarkable  hole  ! 

The  bricks  are  drawn  away  below,  above; 

The  top  is  narrow,  but  the  center  wide ; 

As  if  the  great  house-heart  had  burst  with  pride, 
Fearing  lest  the  unworthy  share  its  love.  22 

To  think  that  science  should  be  expended  on  a task  like  this! 
Maitreya.  My  friend,  this  hole  must  have  been  made  by  one  of 
two  men;  either  by  a stranger,  or  else  for  practice  by  a student 
of  the  science  of  robbery.  For  what  man  here  in  UjjayinI  does 
not  know  how  much  wealth  there  is  in  our  house? 

Charud.  Stranger  he  must  have  been  who  made  the  breach, 

His  customed  harvest  in  my  house  to  reap ; 

He  has  not  learned  that  vanished  riches  teach 
A calm,  untroubled  sleep. 


P.  92.4] 


THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL 


53 


He  saw  the  sometime  greatness  of  my  home 
And  forced  an  entrance;  for  his  heart  did  leap 
With  short-lived  hope ; now  he  must  elsewhere  roam, 
And  over  broken  hopes  must  sorely  weep.  23 

Just  think  of  the  poor  fellow  telling  his  friends:  “I  entered  the 
house  of  a merchant’s  son,  and  found — nothing.” 

Maitreya.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  pity  the  rascally  robber? 
Thinks  he — “Here ’s  a great  house.  Here ’s  the  place  to  carry  off 
a jewel-casket  or  a gold-casket.”  [He  remembers  the  casket.  De- 
spondently. Aside.}  Where  is  that  golden  casket?  [He  remembers 
the  events  of  the  night.  Aloud.}  Look,  man!  You  are  always  say- 
ing “Maitreya  is  a fool,  Maitreya  is  no  scholar.”  But  I certainly 
acted  wisely  in  handing  over  that  golden  casket  to  you.  If  I 
had  n’t,  the  son  of  a slave  would  have  carried  it  off. 

Charudatta.  A truce  to  your  jests ! 

Maitreya.  Just  because  I ’m  a fool,  do  you  suppose  I don’t  even 
know  the  place  and  time  for  a jest? 

Charudatta.  But  when  did  this  happen  ? 

Maitreya.  Why,  when  I told  you  that  your  fingers  were  cold. 
Charudatta.  It  might  have  been.  [He  searches  about.  Joyfully.} 
My  friend,  I have  something  pleasant  to  tell  you. 

Maitreya.  What  ? Was  n’t  it  stolen  ? 

Charudatta.  Yes. 

Maitreya.  What  is  the  pleasant  news,  then  ? 

Charudatta.  The  fact  that  he  did  not  go  away  disappointed. 
Maitreya.  But  it  was  only  entrusted  to  our  care. 

Charudatta.  What!  entrusted  to  our  care?  [He  swoons.} 
Maitreya.  Come  to  yourself,  man.  Is  the  fact  that  a thief  stole  what 
was  entrusted  to  you,  any  reason  why  you  should  swoon? 
Charudatta.  [Coming  to  himself.}  Ah,  my  friend, 


54 


ACT  THE  THIRD 


[53.5  S. 


Who  will  believe  the  truth? 

Suspicion  now  is  sure. 

This  world  will  show  no  ruth 

To  the  inglorious  poor.  24 

Alas!  If  envious  fate  before 

Has  wooed  my  wealth  alone, 

Why  should  she  seek  my  store 

Of  virtue  as  her  own  ? 25 

Maitreya.  I intend  to  deny  the  whole  thing.  Who  gave  anybody 
anything?  who  received  anything  from  anybody?  who  was  a wit- 
ness ? 

Charudatta.  And  shall  I tell  a falsehood  now? 

No ! I will  beg  until  I earn 

The  wherewithal  my  debt  to  pay. 

Ignoble  falsehood  I will  spurn, 

That  steals  the  character  away.  26 

Radanika.  I will  go  and  tell  his  good  wife.  [She  goes  out,  returning 
with  Charudatta  s wife. ] 

Wife.  [. Anxiously. ] Oh!  Is  it  true  that  my  lord  is  uninjured,  and 
Maitreya  too  ? 

Radanika.  It  is  true,  mistress.  But  the  gems  which  belong  to  the 
courtezan  have  been  stolen.  [Charudatta  s wife  swoons. ] O my  good 
mistress!  Come  to  yourself! 

Wife.  [Recovering. ] Girl,  how  can  you  say  that  my  lord  is  unin- 
jured? Better  that  he  were  injured  in  body  than  in  character.  For 
now  the  people  of  UjjayinI  will  say  that  my  lord  committed  this 
crime  because  of  his  poverty.  [She  looks  up  and  sighs. ] Ah,  mighty 
Fate!  The  destinies  of  the  poor,  uncertain  as  the  water-drops  which 
fall  upon  a lotus-leaf,  seem  to  thee  but  playthings.  There  remains 
to  me  this  one  necklace,  which  I brought  with  me  from  my  mo- 
ther’s house.  But  my  lord  would  be  too  proud  to  accept  it.  Girl, 
call  Maitreya  hither. 


P.  95. T] 


THE  HOLE  IN  THE  WALL 


55 


Radanika.  Yes,  mistress.  [She  approaches  Maitreya .]  Maitreya, 
my  lady  summons  you. 

Maitreya.  Where  is  she? 

Radanika.  Here.  Come! 

Maitreya.  [ Approaching .]  Heaven  bless  you! 

Wife.  I salute  you,  sir.  Sir,  will  you  look  straight  in  front  of  you? 
Maitreya.  Madam,  here  stands  a man  who  looks  straight  in  front 
of  him. 

Wife.  Sir,  you  must  accept  this. 

Maitreya.  Why? 

Wife.  I have  observed  the  Ceremony  of  the  Gems.  And  on  this 
occasion  one  must  make  as  great  a present  as  one  may  to  a Brah- 
man. This  I have  not  done,  therefore  pray  accept  this  necklace. 
Maitreya.  [ Receiving  the  necklace. ] Heaven  bless  you!  I will  go 
and  tell  my  friend. 

Wife.  You  must  not  do  it  in  such  a way  as  to  make  me  blush, 
Maitreya.  [Exit. 

Maitreya.  [In  astonishment .]  What  generosity! 

Charudatta.  How  Maitreya  lingers ! I trust  his  grief  is  not  leading 
him  to  do  what  he  ought  not.  Maitreya,  Maitreya! 

Maitreya.  [. Approaching .]  Here  I am.  Take  that.  [He  displays  the 
necklace.  ] 

Charudatta.  What  is  this? 

Maitreya.  Why,  that  is  the  reward  you  get  for  marrying  such  a 
wife. 

Charudatta.  What ! my  wife  takes  pity  on  me  ? Alas,  now  am  I 
poor  indeed! 

When  fate  so  robs  him  of  his  all, 

That  on  her  pity  he  must  call, 

The  man  to  woman’s  state  doth  fall, 

The  woman  is  the  man. 


27 


56 


ACT  THE  THIRD 


[55.9  S. 


But  no,  I am  not  poor.  For  I have  a wife 

Whose  love  outlasts  my  wealthy  day; 

In  thee  a friend  through  good  and  ill; 

And  truth  that  naught  could  take  away: 

Ah,  this  the  poor  man  lacketh  still.  28 

Maitreya,  take  the  necklace  and  go  to  Vasantasena.  Tell  her  in 
my  name  that  we  have  gambled  away  the  golden  casket,  forget- 
ting that  it  was  not  our  own ; that  we  trust  she  will  accept  this 
necklace  in  its  place. 

Maitreya.  But  you  must  not  give  away  this  necklace,  the  pride  of 
the  four  seas,  for  that  cheap  thing  that  was  stolen  before  we  had 
a bite  or  a drink  out  of  it. 

Charudatta.  Not  so,  my  friend. 

She  showed  her  trust  in  leaving  us  her  treasure ; 

The  price  of  confidence  has  no  less  measure.  29 

Friend,  I conjure  you  by  this  gesture,  not  to  return  until  you 
have  delivered  it  into  her  hands.  Yardhamanaka,  do  you  speedily 

Fill  up  the  opening  with  the  selfsame  bricks; 

Thus  will  I thwart  the  process  of  the  law, 

For  the  blemish  of  so  great  a scandal  sticks.  30 

And,  friend  Maitreya,  you  must  show  your  pride  by  not  speaking 
too  despondently. 

Maitreya.  How  can  a poor  man  help  speaking  despondently? 
Charudatta,  Poor  I am  not,  my  friend.  For  I have  a wife 
Whose  love  outlasts  my  wealthy  day; 

In  thee  a friend  through  good  and  ill ; 

And  truth  that  naught  could  take  away: 

Ah,  this  the  poor  man  lacketh  still.  ( 28 ) 

Go  then,  and  after  performing  rites  of  purification,  I will  offer 
my  morning  prayer.  [Exeunt  omnes. 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 
MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA 


Mai(l  [ Enter  a maid.] 

I AM  entrusted  with  a message  for  my  mistress  by  her  mother. 

Here  is  my  mistress.  She  is  gazing  at  a picture  and  is  talking 
with  Madanika.  I will  go  to  her.  [She  walks  about.  Then  enter 
Vasantasena,  as  described,  and  Madanika .] 

Vasantasena.  Madanika  girl,  is  this  portrait  really  like  Charu- 
datta  ? 


Madanika.  Very  like. 

Vasantasena.  How  do  you  know? 

Madanika.  Because  my  mistress’  eyes  are  fastened  so  lovingly 
upon  it. 

Vasantasena.  Madanika  girl,  do  you  say  this  because  courtezan 
courtesy  demands  it? 

Madanika.  But  mistress,  is  the  courtesy  of  a girl  who  lives  in  a 
courtezan’s  house,  necessarily  false? 

Vasantasena.  Girl,  courtezans  meet  so  many  kinds  of  men  that 
they  do  learn  a false  courtesy. 

Madanika.  But  when  the  eyes  of  my  mistress  find  such  delight  in 
a thing,  and  her  heart  too,  what  need  is  there  to  ask  the  reason? 
Vasantasena.  But  I should  not  like  to  have  my  friends  laugh  at  me. 
Madanika.  You  need  not  be  afraid.  Women  understand  women. 


Maid.  [Approaching.]  Mistress,  your  mother  sends  word  that  a 
covered  cart  is  waiting  at  the  side-door,  and  that  you  are  to  take 
a drive. 

Vasantasena.  Tell  me,  is  it  Charudatta  who  invites  me? 

Maid.  Mistress,  the  man  who  sent  ornaments  worth  ten  thousand 
gold-pieces  with  the  cart — 


58 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[58.6  S. 


Vasantasena.  Is  who? 

Maid.  Is  the  king’s  brother-in-law,  Sansthanaka. 

Vasantasena.  [Indignantly.']  Go!  and  never  come  again  on  such 
an  errand. 

Maid.  Do  not  be  angry,  mistress.  I was  only  sent  with  the  message. 
Vasantasena.  But  it  is  the  message  which  makes  me  angry. 
Maid.  But  what  shall  I tell  your  mother? 

Vasantasena.  Tell  my  mother  never  to  send  me  another  such 
message,  unless  she  wishes  to  kill  me. 

Maid.  As  you  will.  [Exit.]  [Enter  Sharvilaka.] 

Sharv.  Blame  for  my  sin  I laid  upon  the  night; 

I conquered  sleep  and  watchmen  of  the  king; 

But  darkness  wanes,  and  in  the  sun’s  clear  light 

My  light  is  like  the  moon’s — a faded  thing.  1 

And  again: 

Whoever  cast  at  me  a passing  look. 

Or  neared  me,  anxious,  as  they  quickly  ran, 

All  such  my  laden  soul  for  foes  mistook; 

For  sin  it  was  wherein  man’s  fear  began.  2 

Well,  it  was  for  Madanika’s  sake  that  I did  the  deed  of  sin. 

I paid  no  heed  to  any  one  who  talked  with  serving-men ; 

The  houses  ruled  by  women-folk — these  I avoided  most; 
And  when  policemen  seemed  to  have  me  almost  in  their  ken, 

I stood  stock-still  and  acted  just  exactly  like  a post. 

A hundred  such  manoeuvres  did  I constantly  essay, 

And  by  such  means  succeeded  in  turning  night  to  day.  3 
[He  walks  about.] 

Vasantasena.  Girl,  lay  this  picture  on  my  sofa  and  come  back  at 
once  with  a fan. 

Madanika.  Yes,  mistress.  [Exit  with  the  picture. 

Sharvilaka.  This  is  Vasantasena’s  house.  I will  enter.  [He  does  so.] 


P.  101.11] 


MADANIKA  AND  SHARV1LAKA 


59 


I wonder  where  I can  find  Madanika.  [ Enter  Madanika  with  the 
fan.  Sharvilaka  discovers  her.]  Ah,  it  is  Madanika. 

Surpassing  Madana1  himself  in  charm, 

She  seems  the  bride  of  Love,  in  human  guise; 

Even  while  my  heart  the  flames  of  passion  harm, 

She  brings  a sandal2  coolness  to  my  eyes.  4 

Madanika ! 

Madanika.  [Discovers  Sharvilaka.']  Oh,  oh,  oh,  Sharvilaka!  I am  so 
glad,  Sharvilaka.  Where  have  you  been? 

Sharvilaka.  I will  tell  you.  [They  gaze  at  each  other  passionately.] 
Vasantasena.  How  Madanika  lingers ! I wonder  where  she  is.  [She 
looks  through  a bull's-eye  window.]  Why,  there  she  stands,  talking 
with  a man.  Her  loving  glance  does  not  waver,  and  she  gazes  as 
if  she  would  drink  him  in.  I imagine  he  must  be  the  man  who 
wishes  to  make  her  free.  Well,  let  her  stay,  let  her  stay.  Never  in- 
terrupt anybody’s  happiness.  I will  not  call  her. 

Madanika.  Tell  me,  Sharvilaka.  [Sharvilaka  looks  about  him  un- 
easily.] What  is  it,  Sharvilaka?  You  seem  uneasy. 

Sharvilaka.  I will  tell  you  a secret.  Are  we  alone? 

Madanika.  Of  course  we  are. 

Vasantasena.  What!  a deep  secret?  I will  not  listen. 

Sharvilaka.  Tell  me,  Madanika.  Will  Vasantasena  take  a price  for 
your  freedom? 

Vasantasena.  The  conversation  has  to  do  with  me?  Then  I will 
hide  behind  this  window  and  listen. 

Madanika.  I asked  my  mistress  about  it,  Sharvilaka,  and  she  said 
that  if  she  could  have  her  way,  she  would  free  all  her  servants  for 
nothing.  But  Sharvilaka,  where  did  you  find  such  a fortune  that 
you  can  think  of  buying  my  freedom  from  my  mistress? 
Sharvilaka.  A victim  to  my  pauper  plight, 

And  your  sweet  love  to  win, 


1 A name  of  Kama,  the  god  of  love. 


2 Used  as  a refrigerant. 


60 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[60.16  S. 


For  you,  my  timid  maid,  last  night 

I did  the  deed  of  sin.  5 

Vasantasena.  His  face  is  tranquil.  It  would  be  troubled,  if  he  had 
sinned. 

Madanika.  Oh,  Sharvilaka!  For  a mere  nothing — fora  woman — 
you  have  risked  both  things ! 

Sharvilaka.  What  things? 

Madanika.  Your  life  and  your  character. 

Sharvilaka.  My  foolish  girl,  fortune  favors  the  brave. 

Madanika.  Oh,  Sharvilaka!  Your  character  was  without  a stain. 
You  did  n’t  do  anything  very  bad,  did  you,  when  for  my  sake  you 
did  the  deed  of  sin? 

Sharv.  The  gems  that  magnify  a woman’s  charm, 

As  flowers  the  creeping  plant,  I do  not  harm. 

I do  not  rob  the  Brahman  of  his  pelf, 

Nor  seize  the  sacrificial  gold  myself. 

I do  not  steal  the  baby  from  the  nurse. 

Simply  because  I need  to  fill  my  purse. 

Even  as  a thief,  I strive  with  main  and  might 
For  just  distinction  ’twixt  the  wrong  and  right.  6 

And  so  you  may  tell  Yasantasena  this : 

These  ornaments  were  made  for  you  to  don, 

Or  so  it  seems  to  me; 

But  as  you  love  me,  never  put  them  on 

Where  other  folks  may  see.  7 

Madanika.  But  Sharvilaka,  ornaments  that  nobody  may  see,  and 
a courtezan — the  two  things  do  not  hang  together.  Give  me  the 
jewels.  I want  to  see  them. 

Sharvilaka.  Here  they  are.  [He  gives  them  to  her  with  some  un- 
easiness.'] 

Madanika.  [Examining  the  jewels.]  It  seems  to  me  I have  seen 
these  before.  Tell  me.  Where  did  you  get  them? 


P.  104.15] 


MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA 


61 


Sharvilaka.  What  does  that  matter  to  you,  Madanika  ? Take  them. 
Madanika.  [Angrily.']  If  you  can  t trust  me,  why  do  you  wish  to 
buy  my  freedom? 

Sharvilaka.  Well,  this  morning  I heard  in  the  merchants’  quarter 
that  the  merchant  Charudatta — 

[ Vasantasena  and  Madanika  swoon.] 

Sharvilaka.  Madanika!  Come  to  yourself!  Why  is  it  that  now 
Your  figure  seems  to  melt  in  limp  despair, 

Your  eyes  are  wildly  rolling  here  and  there? 

That  when  I come,  sweet  girl,  to  make  you  free, 

You  fall  to  trembling,  not  to  pitying  me?  8 

Madanika.  [ Coming  to  herself .]  O you  reckless  man ! When  you 
did  what  you  ought  not  to  have  done  for  my  sake,  you  did  n’t  kill 
anybody  or  hurt  anybody  in  that  house? 

Shai'vilaka.  Madanika,  Sharvilaka  does  not  strike  a terrified  man 
or  a man  asleep.  I did  not  kill  anybody  nor  hurt  anybody. 
Madanika.  Really? 

Sharvilaka.  Really. 

Vasantasena.  [Recovering  consciousness.']  Ah,  I breathe  again. 
Madanika.  Thank  heaven! 

Sharvilaka.  [Jealously.]  What  does  this  “Thank  heaven”  mean, 
Madanika? 

I sinned  for  you,  when  love  had  made  me  pine, 
Although  my  house  was  good  since  time  began; 

Love  took  my  virtue,  but  my  pride  is  mine. 

You  call  me  friend  and  love  another  man?  9 

[Meaningly.]  A noble  youth  is  like  a goodly  tree ; 

His  wealth,  the  fruit  so  fair; 

The  courtezan  is  like  a bird ; for  she 

Pecks  him  and  leaves  him  bare.  10 

Love  is  a fire,  whose  flame  is  lust, 

Whose  fuel  is  gallantry. 


62 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[62.16  S. 


Wherein  our  youth  and  riches  must 

Thus  sacrificed  be.  11 

Vasantasena . [With  a smiled]  His  excitement  is  a little  out  of 
place. 

Sharvilaka.  Yes! 

Those  men  are  fools,  it  seems  to  me, 

Who  trust  to  women  or  to  gold; 

For  gold  and  girls,  ’t  is  plain  to  see, 

Are  false  as  virgin  snakes  and  cold.  12 

Love  not  a woman;  if  you  ever  do, 

She  mocks  at  you,  and  plays  the  gay  deceiver: 

Yet  if  she  loves  you,  you  may  love  her  too; 

But  if  she  does  n’t,  leave  her.  13 

Too  true  it  is  that 

A courtezan  will  laugh  and  cry  for  gold; 

She  trusts  you  not,  but  waits  your  trustful  hour. 

If  virtue  and  a name  are  yours,  then  hold! 

Avoid  her  as  you  would  a graveyard  flower.  14 

And  again : 

As  fickle  as  the  billows  of  the  sea, 

Glowing  no  longer  than  the  evening  sky, 

A woman  takes  your  gold,  then  leaves  you  free; 

You  ’re  worthless,  like  cosmetics,  when  you  re  dry.  15 
Yes,  women  are  indeed  fickle. 

One  man  perhaps  may  hold  her  heart  in  trust, 

She  lures  another  with  coquettish  eyes, 

Sports  with  another  in  unseemly  lust, 

Another  yet  her  body  satisfies.  16 

As  some  one  has  well  said : 

On  mountain-tops  no  lotuses  are  grown; 

The  horse’s  yoke  no  ass  will  ever  bear; 

Rice  never  springs  from  seeds  of  barley  sown ; 

A courtezan  is  not  an  honest  fair. 


17 


P.  107.11] 


MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA 


63 


Accursed  Charudatta,  you  shall  not  live!  [He  takes  a few  steps.] 
Madanika.  [ Seizing  the  hem  of  his  garment.]  O you  foolish  man! 
Your  anger  is  so  ridiculous. 

Sharvilaka.  Ridiculous?  how  so? 

Madanika.  Because  these  jewels  belong  to  my  mistress. 
Sharvilaka.  And  what  then? 

Madanika.  And  she  left  them  with  that  gentleman. 

Sharvilaka.  What  for? 

Madanika.  [ Whispers.]  That ’s  why. 

Sharvilaka.  [Sheepishly.]  Confound  it! 

The  sun  was  hot  one  summer  day; 

I sought  the  shadow,  there  to  stay: 

Poor  fool ! the  kindly  branch  to  pay, 

I stole  its  sheltering  leaves  away.  18 

Vasantasena.  How  sorry  he  seems.  Surely,  he  did  this  thing  in 
ignorance. 

Sharvilaka.  What  is  to  be  done  now,  Madanika? 

Madanika.  Your  own  wit  should  tell  you  that. 

Sharvilaka.  No.  For  you  must  remember, 

Nature  herself  gives  women  wit; 

Men  learn  from  books  a little  bit.  19 

Madanika.  Sharvilaka,  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  restore  the 
jewels  to  that  righteous  man. 

Sharvilaka.  But  Madanika,  what  if  he  should  prosecute  me? 
Madanika.  No  cruel  heat  comes  from  the  moon. 

Vasantasena.  Good,  Madanika,  good! 

Sharvilaka.  Madanika, 

For  what  I did,  I feel  no  grief  nor  fear; 

Why  tell  me  of  this  good  man’s  virtues  high  ? 

Shame  for  my  baseness  touches  me  more  near ; 

What  can  this  king  do  to  such  rogues  as  I ? 


20 


64 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[64.16  S. 


Nevertheless,  your  suggestion  is  inconsistent  with  prudence.  You 
must  discover  some  other  plan. 

Madanika.  Yes,  there  is  another  plan. 

Vasantasena.  I wonder  what  it  will  be. 

Madanika.  Pretend  to  be  a servant  of  that  gentleman,  and  give 
the  jewels  to  my  mistress. 

Sharvilaka.  And  what  then? 

Madanika.  Then  you  are  no  thief,  Charudatta  has  discharged  his 
obligation,  and  my  mistress  has  her  jewels. 

Sharvilaka.  But  isn't  this  course  too  reckless? 

Madanika.  I tell  you,  give  them  to  her.  Any  other  course  is  too 
reckless. 

Vasantasena.  Good,  Madanika,  good!  Spoken  like  a free  woman. 
Sharvilaka.  Risen  at  last  is  wisdom’s  light, 

Because  I followed  after  you; 

When  clouds  obscure  the  moon  by  night, 

’T  is  hard  to  find  a guide  so  true.  21 

Madanika.  Then  you  must  wait  here  a moment  in  Kama’s  shrine, 
while  I tell  my  mistress  that  you  have  come. 

Sharvilaka.  I will. 

Madanika.  [. Approaches  Vasantasena.']  Mistress,  a Brahman  has 
come  from  Charudatta  to  see  you. 

Vasantasena.  But  girl,  how  do  you  know  that  he  comes  from 
Charudatta? 

Madanika.  Should  I not  know  my  own,  mistress  ? 

Vasantasena.  [ Shaking  her  head  and  smiling.  Aside.]  Splendid  ! 
[Aloud.]  Bid  him  enter. 

Madanika.  Yes,  mistress.  [Approaching  Sharvilaka.]  Enter,  Shar- 
vilaka. 

Sharvilaka.  [Approaches.  With  some  embarrassment.]  My  greet- 
ings to  you. 


P.  110.8] 


MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA 


65 


V asantasena.  I salute  you,  sir.  Pray  be  seated. 

Sharvilaka.  The  merchant  sends  this  message:  “My  house  is  so 
old  that  it  is  hard  to  keep  this  casket  safe.  Pray  take  it  back.” 
[He  gives  it  to  Madanika,  and  starts  to  leaved 
Vasantasena.  Sir,  will  you  undertake  a return  commission  of  mine? 
Sharvilaka.  [ Aside. ] Who  will  carry  it?  [Aloud.]  And  this  com- 
mission is — 

Vasantasena.  You  will  be  good  enough  to  accept  Madanika. 
Sharvilaka.  Madam,  I do  not  quite  understand. 

Vasantasena.  But  I do. 

Sharvilaka.  How  so? 

Vasantasena.  Charudatta  told  me  that  I was  to  give  Madanika  to 
the  man  who  should  return  these  jewels.  You  are  therefore  to 
understand  that  he  makes  you  a present  of  her. 

Sharvilaka.  [A side. \ Ah,  she  sees  through  me.  [Aloud.~\  Good, 
Charudatta,  good ! 

On  virtue  only  set  your  heart’s  desire; 

The  righteous  poor  attain  to  heights  whereto 
The  wicked  wealthy  never  may  aspire.  22 

And  again : 

On  virtue  let  the  human  heart  be  set; 

To  virtue  nothing  serves  as  check  or  let. 

The  moon,  attaining  unattainable,  is  led 
By  virtue  to  her  seat  on  Shiva’s  head.  23 

Vasantasena.  Is  my  driver  there?  [Enter  a servant  with  a bullock- 
cart  .] 

Servant.  Mistress,  the  cart  is  ready. 

Vasantasena.  Madanika  girl,  you  must  show  me  a happy  face. 
You  are  free.  Enter  the  bullock-cart.  But  do  not  forget  me. 
Madanika.  [ Weeping.']  My  mistress  drives  me  away.  [She  falls  at 
her  feet.] 

Vasantasena.  You  are  now  the  one  to  whom  honor  should  be 


66 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[66.17  S. 


paid.1  Go  then,  enter  the  cart.  But  do  not  forget  me. 

Sharvilaka.  Heaven  bless  you!  and  you,  Madanika, 

Turn  upon  her  a happy  face. 

And  hail  with  bended  head  the  grace 
That  gives  you  now  the  name  of  wife, 

As  a veil  to  keep  you  safe  through  life.  24 

[He  enters  the  bullock-cart  with  Madanika,  and  starts  away. ] 

A voice  behind  the  scenes.  Men ! Men!  We  have  the  following 
orders  from  the  chief  of  police:  “A  soothsayer  has  declared  that 
a young  herdsman  named  Aryaka  is  to  become  king.  Trusting  to 
this  prophecy,  and  alarmed  thereat,  King  Palaka  has  taken  him 
from  his  hamlet,  and  thrown  him  into  strict  confinement.  There- 
fore be  watchful,  and  every  man  at  his  post.” 

Sharvilaka.  [Listening.']  What!  King  Palaka  has  imprisoned  my 
good  friend  Aryaka?  And  here  I am,  a married  man.  Confound  it! 
But  no, 

Two  things  alone — his  friend,  his  wife — 

Deserve  man’s  love  below; 

A hundred  brides  may  forfeit  life 

Ere  he  should  suffer  so.  25 

Good ! I will  get  out.  [He  does  so.] 

Madanika.  [Folding  her  hands.  Tearfully.]  My  lord,  if  you  must, 
at  least  bring  me  first  to  your  parents. 

Sharvilaka.  Yes,  my  love,  I will.  I had  the  same  thought  in  mind. 
[To  the  servant.]  My  good  fellow,  do  you  know  the  house  of  the 
merchant  Rebhila? 

Servant.  Certainly. 

Sharvilaka.  Bring  my  wife  thither. 

Servant.  Yes,  sir. 

Madanika.  If  you  desire  it,  dear.  But  dear,  you  must  be  very 
careful.  [Exit. 

1 That  is  to  say,  You  are  now  a legal  wife,  while  I am  still  a courtezan. 


P.  113.6] 


MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA 


67 


Sharvilaka.  Now  as  for  me, 

I 'll  rouse  my  kin,  the  kitchen  cabinet, 

Those  high  in  fame  by  strength  of  good  right  arm, 

And  those  who  with  the  king’s  contempt  have  met, 

And  royal  slaves,  to  save  my  friend  from  harm: 

Like  old  Yaugandharayana 

For  the  good  king  Udayana.  26 

And  again: 

My  friend  has  causeless  been  confined 
By  wicked  foes  of  timid  kind; 

I fly,  I fly  to  free  him  soon, 

Like  the  eclipse-oppressed  moon.  [Exit.]  27 

Maid.  [Entering.']  Mistress,  I congratulate  you.  A Brahman  has 
come  with  a message  from  Charudatta. 

Vasantasena.  Ah,  this  is  a joyful  day.  Show  him  every  mark  of 
respect,  girl,  and  have  him  conducted  hither  by  one  of  the  pages. 
Maid.  Yes,  mistress.  [Exit. 

[Enter  Maitreya  with  a page.] 

Maitreya.  Well ! Ravana,  the  king  of  the  demons,  travels  with  his 
chariot  that  they  call  the  “Blossom.”  He  earned  it  by  his  penances. 
Now  I am  a Brahman,  and  though  I never  performed  any  penances, 
I travel  with  another  sort  of  a blossom — a woman  of  the  town. 
Maid.  Sir,  will  you  inspect  our  gateway. 

Maitreya.  [Gazes  admiringly.]  It  has  just  been  sprinkled  and 
cleaned  and  received  a coat  of  green.  The  threshold  of  it  is  pretty 
as  a picture  with  the  offerings  of  all  sorts  of  fragrant  flowers.  It 
stretches  up  its  head  as  if  it  wanted  to  peep  into  the  sky.  It  is 
adorned  with  strings  of  jasmine  garlands  that  hang  down  and  toss 
about  like  the  trunk  of  the  heavenly  elephant.  It  shines  with  its 
high  ivory  portal.  It  is  lovely  with  any  number  of  holiday  banners 
that  gleam  red  as  great  rubies  and  wave  their  coquettish  fingers  as 


68 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[68.16  S. 


they  flutter  in  the  breeze  and  seem  to  invite  me  to  enter.  Both 
sides  are  decorated  with  holiday  water-jars  of  crystal,  which  are 
charming  with  their  bright-green  mango  twigs,  and  are  set  at  the 
foot  of  the  pillars  that  sustain  the  portal.  The  doors  are  of  gold, 
thickly  set  with  diamonds  as  hard  to  pierce  as  a giant’s  breast. 
It  actually  wearies  a poor  devil’s  envy.  Yes,  Vasantasena’s  house- 
door  is  a beautiful  thing.  Really,  it  forcibly  challenges  the  atten- 
tion of  a man  who  does  n’t  care  about  such  things. 

Maid.  Come,  sir,  and  enter  the  first  court. 

Maitreya.  [ Enters  and  looks  about.]  Well!  Here  in  the  first  court 
are  rows  of  balconies  brilliant  as  the  moon,  or  as  sea-shells,  or  as 
lotus-stalks;  whitened  by  handfuls  of  powder  strewn  over  them; 
gleaming  with  golden  stairways  inlaid  with  all  sorts  of  gems : they 
seem  to  gaze  down  on  Ujjayini  with  their  round  faces,  the  crystal 
windows,  from  which  strings  of  pearls  are  dangling.  The  porter  sits 
there  and  snoozes  as  comfortably  as  a professor.  The  crows  which 
they  tempt  with  rice-gruel  and  curdled  milk  will  not  eat  the 
offering,  because  they  can’t  distinguish  it  from  the  mortar.  Show 
me  the  way,  madam. 

Maid.  Come,  sir,  and  enter  the  second  court. 

Maitreya.  [. Enters  and  looks  about.]  Well!  Here  in  the  second 
court  the  cart-bullocks  are  tied.  They  grow  fat  on  mouthfuls  of 
grass  and  pulse-stalks  which  are  brought  them,  right  and  left,  by 
everybody.  Their  horns  are  smeared  with  oil.  And  here  is  another, 
a buffalo,  snorting  like  a gentleman  insulted.  And  here  is  a ram1 
having  his  neck  rubbed,  like  a prize-fighter  after  the  fight.  And 
here  are  others,  horses  having  their  manes  put  in  shape.  And  here 
in  a stall  is  another,  a monkey,  tied  fast  like  a thief.  [He  looks  in 
another  direction.]  And  here  is  an  elephant,  taking  from  his  drivers 
a cake  of  rice  and  drippings  and  oil.  Show  me  the  way,  madam. 
Maid.  Come,  sir,  and  enter  the  third  court. 

Maitreya.  [. Enters  and  looks  about.]  Well ! Here  in  the  third  court 

1 “Rams  in  India  are  commonly  trained  to  fight.”  Wilson. 


P.  117.4] 


MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA 


69 


are  these  seats,  prepared  for  young  gentlemen  to  sit  on.  A half- 
read book  is  lying  on  the  gaming-table.  And  the  table  itself  has 
its  own  dice,  made  out  of  gems.  And  here,  again,  are  courtezans 
and  old  hangers-on  at  court,  past  masters  in  the  war  and  peace  of 
love,  wandering  about  and  holding  in  their  fingers  pictures  painted 
in  many  colors.  Show  me  the  way,  madam. 

Maid.  Come,  sir,  and  enter  the  fourth  court. 

Maitreya.  [Enters  and  looks  about.]  Well!  Here  in  the  fourth 
court  the  drums  that  maiden  fingers  beat  are  booming  like  the 
thunder ; the  cymbals  are  falling,  as  the  stars  fall  from  heaven  when 
their  merit  is  exhausted;1  the  pipe  is  discoursing  music  as  sweet 
as  the  humming  of  bees.  And  here,  again,  is  a lute  that  somebody 
is  holding  on  his  lap  like  a girl  who  is  excited  by  jealousy  and 
love,  and  he  is  stroking  it  with  his  fingers.  And  here,  again,  are 
courtezan  girls  that  sing  as  charmingly  as  honey-drunken  bees, 
and  they  are  made  to  dance  and  recite  a drama  with  love  in  it. 
And  water-coolers  are  hanging  in  the  windows  so  as  to  catch  the 
breeze.  Show  me  the  way,  madam. 

Maid.  Come,  sir,  and  enter  the  fifth  court. 

Maitreya.  [Enters  and  looks  about.]  Well!  Here  in  the  fifth  court 
the  overpowering  smell  of  asafetida  and  oil  is  attractive  enough 
to  make  a poor  devil’s  mouth  water.  The  kitchen  is  kept  hot  all 
the  time,  and  the  gusts  of  steam,  laden  with  all  sorts  of  good 
smells,  seem  like  sighs  issuing  from  its  mouth-like  doors.  The 
smell  of  the  preparation  of  all  kinds  of  foods  and  sauces  makes  me 
smack  my  lips.  And  here,  again,  is  a butcher’s  boy  washing  a mess 
of  chitterlings  as  if  it  were  an  old  loin-cloth.  The  cook  is  prepar- 
ing every  kind  of  food.  Sweetmeats  are  being  constructed,  cakes 
are  being  baked.  [To  himself.]  I wonder  if  I am  to  get  a chance  to 
wash  my  feet  and  an  invitation  to  eat  what  I can  hold.  [He  looks 
in  another  direction.]  There  are  courtezans  and  bastard  pages, 


1 Virtuous  souls  after  death  may  become  stars;  but  when  their  stellar  happiness  equals  the 
sum  of  their  acquired  merit,  they  fall  to  earth  again. 


70 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[70.13  S. 


adorned  with  any  number  of  jewels,  just  like  Gandharvas 1 and 
Apsarases.2  Really,  this  house  is  heaven.  Tell  me,  who  are  you 
bastards  anyway? 

Pages.  Why,  we  are  bastard  pages — 

Petted  in  a stranger’s  court, 

Fed  on  stranger’s  food, 

Stranger’s  money  makes  us  sport — 

Not  so  very  good. 

Stranger  women  gave  us  birth, 

Stranger  men  begot; 

Baby  elephants  in  mirth, 

We  ’re  a bastard  lot.  28 

Maitreya.  Show  me  the  way,  madam. 

Maid.  Come,  sir,  and  enter  the  sixth  court. 

Maitreya.  [. Enters  and  looks  about.']  Well!  Here  in  the  sixth 
court  they  are  working  in  gold  and  jewels.  The  arches  set  with 
sapphires  look  as  if  they  were  the  home  of  the  rainbow.  The  jew- 
elers are  testing  the  lapis  lazuli,  the  pearls,  the  corals,  the  topazes, 
the  sapphires,  the  cat’s-eyes,  the  rubies,  the  emeralds,  and  all  the 
other  kinds  of  gems.  Rubies  are  being  set  in  gold.  Golden  orna- 
ments are  being  fashioned.  Pearls  are  being  strung  on  a red  cord. 
Pieces  of  lapis  lazuli  are  being  cleverly  polished.  Shells  are  being 
pierced.  Corals  are  being  ground.  W et  bundles  of  saffron  are  be- 
ing dried.  Musk  is  being  moistened.  Sandalwood  is  being  ground 
to  make  sandal-water.  Perfumes  are  being  compounded.  Betel- 
leaves  and  camphor  are  being  given  to  courtezans  and  their  lovers. 
Coquettish  glances  are  being  exchanged.  Laughter  is  going  on. 
Wine  is  being  drunk  incessantly  with  sounds  of  glee.  Here  are 
men-servants,  here  are  maid-servants,  and  here  are  men  who  for- 
get child  and  wife  and  money.  When  the  courtezans,  who  have 
drunk  the  wine  from  the  liquor-jars,  give  them  the  mitten,  they — 
drink.  Show  me  the  way,  madam. 


1 The  choristers  of  heaven. 


2 The  nymphs  of  heaven. 


P.  121.5] 


MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA 


71 


Maid.  Come,  sir,  and  enter  the  seventh  court. 

Maitreya.  [Enters  and  looks  about.]  Well!  Here  in  the  seventh 
court  the  mated  doves  are  sitting  comfortably  in  their  snug  dove- 
cotes, billing  and  cooing  and  nothing  else,  and  perfectly  happy. 
And  there  is  a parrot  in  a cage,  chanting  like  a Brahman  with  a 
bellyful  of  curdled  milk  and  rice.  And  here,  again,  is  a talking 
thrush,  chattering  like  a housemaid  who  spreads  herself  because 
somebody  noticed  her.  A cuckoo,  her  throat  still  happy  from  tast- 
ing all  sorts  of  fruit-syrups,  is  cooing  like  a procuress.  Rows  of 
cages  are  hanging  from  pegs.  Quails  are  being  egged  on  to  fight. 
Partridges  are  being  made  to  talk.  Caged  pigeons  are  being  pro- 
voked. A tame  peacock  that  looks  as  if  he  was  adorned  with  all 
sorts  of  gems  is  dancing  happily  about,  and  as  he  flaps  his  wings, 
he  seems  to  be  fanning  the  roof  which  is  distressed  by  the  rays 
of  the  sun.  [He  looks  in  another  direction .]  Here  are  pairs  of  fla- 
mingos like  moonbeams  rolled  into  a ball,  that  wander  about  after 
pretty  girls,  as  if  they  wanted  to  learn  how  to  walk  gracefully. 
And  here,  again,  are  tame  cranes,  walking  around  like  ancient 
eunuchs.  Well,  well!  This  courtezan  keeps  a regular  menagerie  of 
birds.  Really,  the  courtezan’s  house  seems  to  me  like  Indra’s  hea- 
ven. Show  me  the  way,  madam. 

Maid.  Come,  sir,  and  enter  the  eighth  court. 

Maitreya.  [Enters  and  looks  about.']  Madam,  who  is  this  in  the 
silk  cloak,  adorned  with  such  astonishingly  tautologous  ornaments, 
who  wanders  about,  stumbling  and  stretching  his  limbs? 

Maid.  Sir,  this  is  my  mistress’  brother. 

Maitreya.  What  sort  of  ascetic  exercises  does  a man  have  to  per- 
form, in  order  to  be  born  as  Vasantasena’s  brother  ? But  no, 

He  may  be  shiny,  may  be  greasy, 

And  perfumed  may  he  be. 

And  yet  I warn  you  to  go  easy; 

He’sa  graveyard  champak-tree. 


29 


72 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[72.9  S. 


[He  looks  in  another  direction.']  But  madam,  who  is  that  in  the 
expansive  garment,  sitting  on  the  throne?  She  has  shoes  on  her 
greasy  feet. 

Maid.  Sir,  that  is  my  mistress’  mother. 

Maitreya.  Lord ! What  an  extensive  belly  the  dirty  old  witch  has 
got ! I suppose  they  could  n’t  put  that  superb  portal  on  the  house 
till  after  they  had  brought  the  idol  in  ? 

Maid.  Rascal ! Y ou  must  not  make  fun  of  our  mother  so.  She  is 
pining  away  under  a quartan  ague. 

Maitreya.  [Bursts  out  laughing.]  O thou  blessed  quartan  ague! 
Look  thou  upon  a Brahman,  even  upon  me,  with  this  thy  favor! 
Maid.  Rascal ! May  death  strike  you. 

Maitreya.  [Bursts  out  laughing.]  Why,  wench,  a pot-belly  like 
that  is  better  dead. 

Drinking  brandy,  rum,  and  wine, 

Mother  fell  extremely  ill. 

If  mother  now  should  peak  and  pine, 

A jackal-pack  would  have  its  fill.  30 

Well,  I have  seen  Yasantasena’s  palace  with  its  many  incidents 
and  its  eight  courts,  and  really,  it  seems  as  if  I had  seen  the  triple 
heaven  in  a nut-shell.  I have  n’t  the  eloquence  to  praise  it.  Is  this 
the  house  of  a courtezan,  or  a piece  of  Kubera’s 1 palace?  Where ’s 
your  mistress? 

Maid.  She  is  here  in  the  orchard.  Enter,  sir. 

Maitreya.  [Enters  and  looks  about.]  Well!  What  a beautiful  or- 
chard ! There  are  any  number  of  trees  planted  here,  and  they  are 
covered  with  the  most  wonderful  flowers.  Silken  swings  are  hung 
under  the  thick-set  trees,  just  big  enough  for  a girl  to  sit  in.  The 
golden  jasmine,  the  shephalika,  the  white  jasmine,  the  jessamine, 
the  navamallika,  the  amaranth,  the  spring  creeper,  and  all  the  other 
flowers  have  fallen  of  themselves,  and  really,  it  makes  Indra’s  hea- 


1 The  god  of  wealth. 


P.  126.7] 


MADANIKA  AND  SHARVILAKA 


73 


ven  look  dingy.  {He  looks  in  another  direction.']  And  the  pond  here 
looks  like  the  morning  twilight,  for  the  lilies  and  red  lotuses  are 
as  splendid  as  the  rising  sun.  And  again: 

The  ashoka-tree,  whose  twigs  so  merry 
And  crimson  flowers  have  just  appeared, 

Seems  like  a battling  mercenary, 

With  clotting  crimson  gore  besmeared.  31 

Good!  Now  where’s  your  mistress? 

31aid.  If  you  would  stop  star-gazing,  sir,  you  would  see  her. 
Maitreya.  {Perceives  Vasantasena  and  approaches.]  Heaven  bless 
you! 

Vasantasena.  {Speaking in  Sanskrit.1]  Ah,  Maitreya!  {Rising.]  You 
are  very  welcome.  Here  is  a seat.  Pray  be  seated. 

Maitreya.  When  you  are  seated,  madam.  {They  both  seat  them- 
selves.] 

Vasantasena.  Is  the  merchant’s  son  well? 

Maitreya.  Well,  madam. 

Vasantasena.  Tell  me,  good  Maitreya, 

Do  friends,  like  birds,  yet  seek  a shelter  free 
Beneath  the  modest  boughs  of  this  fair  tree, 

Whose  leaves  are  virtues,  confidence  its  root, 

Its  blossoms  honor,  good  its  precious  fruit  ? 32 

Maitreya.  {Aside.]  A good  description  by  a naughty  woman. 
{Aloud.]  They  do,  indeed. 

Vasantasena.  Tell  me,  what  is  the  purpose  of  your  coming? 
Maitreya.  Listen,  madam.  The  excellent  Charudatta  folds  his 
hands2  and  requests  — 

Vasantasena.  {Folding  her  hands.]  And  commands — 

Maitreya.  He  says  he  imagined  that  that  golden  casket  was  his 
own  and  gambled  it  away.  And  nobody  knows  where  the  gambling- 

1 This  shows  the  excellence  of  Vasantasena’s  education.  Women,  as  an  almost  invariable  rule, 
speak  Prakrit.  2 A gesture  of  respectful  entreaty. 


74 


ACT  THE  FOURTH 


[74.9  S. 


master  has  gone,  for  he  is  employed  in  the  king’s  business. 

Maid.  Mistress,  I congratulate  you.  The  gentleman  has  turned 
gambler. 

Vasantasena.  [Aside.]  It  was  stolen  by  a thief,  and  he  is  so  proud 
that  he  says  he  gambled  it  away.  I love  him  for  that. 

Maitreya.  He  requests  that  you  will  therefore  be  good  enough  to 
accept  in  its  place  this  necklace  of  pearls. 

Vasantasena.  [Aside.]  Shall  I show  him  the  jewels?  [Reflecting.] 
No,  not  yet. 

Maitreya.  Why  don’t  you  take  this  necklace? 

Vasantasena.  [Laughs  and  looks  at  her  friend .]  Why  should  I not 
take  the  necklace,  Maitreya?  [She  takes  it  and  lays  it  away.  Aside.] 
How  is  it  possible  that  drops  of  honey  fall  from  the  mango-tree, 
even  after  its  blossoms  are  gone?  [Aloud.]  Sir,  pray  tell  the  worthy 
gambler  Charudatta  in  my  name  that  I shall  pay  him  a visit  this 
evening. 

Maitreya.  [Aside.]  What  else  does  she  expect  to  get  out  of  a visit 
to  our  house?  [Aloud.]  Madam,  I will  tell  him — [aside]  to  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  this  courtezan.  [Exit. 

Vasantasena.  Take  these  jewels,  girl.  Let  us  go  and  bring  cheer 
to  Charudatta. 

Maid.  But  mistress,  see!  An  untimely  storm  is  gathering. 

Vasant.  The  clouds  may  come,  the  rain  may  fall  forever, 

The  night  may  blacken  in  the  sky  above; 

For  this  I care  not,  nor  I will  not  waver; 

My  heart  is  journeying  to  him  I love.  33 

Take  the  necklace,  girl,  and  come  quickly.  [Exeunt  omnes. 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 
THE  STORM 


[The  love-lorn  Charudatta  appears,  seated.'] 

Charudatta.  [Looks  up.] 

AN  untimely  storm1  is  gathering.  For  see! 

The  peacocks  gaze  and  lift  their  fans  on  high ; 

The  swans  forget  their  purpose  to  depart ; 

The  untimely  storm  afflicts  the  blackened  sky, 

And  the  wistful  lover’s  heart.  1 

And  again: 

The  wet  bull’s  belly  wears  no  deeper  dye; 

In  flashing  lightning’s  golden  mantle  clad, 

While  cranes,  his  buglers,  make  the  heaven  glad, 

The  cloud,  a second  Vishnu,2  mounts  the  sky.  2 

And  yet  again: 

As  dark  as  Vishnu’s  form,  with  circling  cranes 
To  trumpet  him,  instead  of  bugle  strains, 

And  garmented  in  lightning’s  silken  robe. 
Approaches  now  the  harbinger  of  rains.  3 

When  lightning’s  lamp  is  lit,  the  silver  river 
Impetuous  falls  from  out  the  cloudy  womb; 

Like  severed  lace  from  heaven-cloaking  gloom, 

It  gleams  an  instant,  then  is  gone  forever.  4 

Like  shoaling  fishes,  or  like  dolphins  shy, 

Or  like  to  swans,  toward  heaven’s  vault  that  fly, 

Like  paired  flamingos,  male  and  mate  together. 

Like  mighty  pinnacles  that  tower  on  high, 


1 In  Indian  love-poetry,  the  rainy  season  is  the  time  when  lovers  most  ardently  long  to  be 
united.  2 In  allusion  to  Vishnu’s  name,  Krishna,  “black.” 


76 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[76.20  S. 


In  thousand  forms  the  tumbling  clouds  embrace, 
Though  torn  by  winds,  they  gather,  interlace, 

And  paint  the  ample  canvas  of  the  sky.  5 

The  sky  is  black  as  Dhritarashtra’s  face; 

Proud  as  the  champion  of  Kuru’s  race, 

The  haughty  peacock  shrills  his  joy  abroad; 

The  cuckoo,  in  Yudhishthira’s  sad  case, 

Is  forced  to  wander  if  he  would  not  die; 

The  swans  must  leave  their  forest-homes  and  fly, 

Like  Pandu’s  sons,  to  seek  an  unknown  place.  6 

[ Reflecting .]  It  is  long  since  Maitreya  went  to  visit  Vasantasena. 
And  even  yet  he  does  not  come.  [ Enter  Maitreya .] 

Maitreya.  Confound  the  courtezan’s  avarice  and  her  incivility ! To 
think  of  her  making  so  short  a story  of  it!  Over  and  over  she 
repeats  something  about  the  affection  she  feels,  and  then  without 
more  ado  she  pockets  the  necklace.  She  is  rich  enough  so  that 
she  might  at  least  have  said:  “Good  Maitreya,  rest  a little.  You 
must  not  go  until  you  have  had  a cup  to  drink.”  Confound  the 
courtezan!  I hope  I’ll  never  set  eyes  on  her  again.  [ Wearily .] 
The  proverb  is  right.  “ It  is  hard  to  find  a lotus-plant  without  a 
root,  a merchant  who  never  cheats,  a goldsmith  who  never  steals, 
a village-gathering  without  a fight,  and  a courtezan  without  ava- 
rice.” Well,  I ’ll  find  my  friend  and  persuade  him  to  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  this  courtezan.  [He  walks  about  until  he  discovers 
Charudatta .]  Ah,  my  good  friend  is  sitting  in  the  orchard.  I ’ll 
go  to  him.  [. Approaching .]  Heaven  bless  you!  May  happiness  be 
yours. 

Charudatta.  [Looking  up.]  Ah,  my  friend  Maitreya  has  returned. 
You  are  very  welcome,  my  friend.  Pray  be  seated. 

Maitreya.  Thank  you. 

Charudatta.  Tell  me  of  your  errand,  my  friend. 

Maitreya.  My  errand  went  all  wrong. 


P.  132.8] 


THE  STORM 


77 


Charudatta.  What!  did  she  not  accept  the  necklace? 

Maitreya.  How  could  we  expect  such  a piece  of  luck?  She  put 
her  lotus-tender  hands  to  her  brow,1  and  took  it. 

Charudatta.  Then  why  do  you  say  “went  wrong  ”? 

Maitreya.  Why  not,  when  we  lost  a necklace  that  was  the  pride 
of  the  four  seas  for  a cheap  golden  casket,  that  was  stolen  before 
we  had  a bite  or  a drink  out  of  it  ? 

Charudatta.  Not  so,  my  friend. 

She  showed  her  trust  in  leaving  us  her  treasure ; 

The  price  of  confidence  has  no  less  measure.  7 

Maitreya.  Now  look  here!  I have  a second  grievance.  She  tipped 
her  friend  the  wink,  covered  her  face  with  the  hem  of  her  dress, 
and  laughed  at  me.  And  so.  Brahman  though  I am,  I hereby  fall 
on  my  face  before  you  and  beg  you  not  to  have  anything  more 
to  do  with  this  courtezan.  That  sort  of  society  does  any  amount 
of  damage.  A courtezan  is  like  a pebble  in  your  shoe.  It  hurts 
before  you  get  rid  of  it.  And  one  thing  more,  my  friend.  A cour- 
tezan, an  elephant,  a scribe,  a mendicant  friar,  a swindler,  and  an 
ass — where  these  dwell,  not  even  rogues  are  born. 

Charudatta.  Oh,  my  friend,  a truce  to  all  your  detraction!  My 
poverty  of  itself  prevents  me.  For  consider: 

The  horse  would  gladly  hasten  here  and  there, 

But  his  legs  fail  him,  for  his  breath  departs. 

So  men’s  vain  wishes  wander  everywhere, 

Then,  weary  grown,  return  into  their  hearts.  8 

Then  too,  my  friend: 

If  wealth  is  thine,  the  maid  is  thine, 

For  maids  are  won  by  gold; 

[Aside.  And  not  by  virtue  cold.  Aloud. ] 

But  wealth  is  now  no  longer  mine, 

And  her  I may  not  hold.  9 


1 A gesture  of  respect. 


78 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[78.25  S. 


Maitreya . [Looks  down.  Aside .]  From  the  way  he  looks  up  and 
sighs,  I conclude  that  my  effort  to  distract  him  has  simply  in- 
creased his  longing.  The  proverb  is  right.  “You  can’t  reason  with 
a lover.”  [. Aloud .]  Well,  she  told  me  to  tell  you  that  she  would 
have  to  come  here  this  evening.  I suppose  she  is  n’t  satisfied  with 
the  necklace  and  is  coming  to  look  for  something  else. 
Charudatta.  Let  her  come,  my  friend.  She  shall  not  depart  un- 
satisfied. [ Enter  Kumbhllaka .] 


Kumbhllaka.  Listen,  good  people. 

The  more  it  rains  in  sheets, 

The  more  my  skin  gets  wet; 

The  more  the  cold  wind  beats, 

The  more  I shake  and  fret.  10 

[He  bursts  out  laughing.'] 

I make  the  sweet  flute  speak  from  seven  holes, 

I make  the  loud  lute  speak  on  seven  strings ; 

In  singing,  I essay  the  donkey’s  roles : 

No  god  can  match  my  music  when  he  sings.  11 

My  mistress  Yasantasena  said  to  me  “Kumbhllaka,  go  and  tell 
Charudatta  that  I am  coming.”  So  here  I am,  on  my  way  to  Cha- 
rudatta’s  house.  [He  walks  about,  and,  as  he  enters,  discovers  Cha- 
rudatta.] Here  is  Charudatta  in  the  orchard.  And  here  is  that 
wretched  jackanapes,  too.  Well,  I’ll  go  up  to  them.  What!  the 
orchard-gate  is  shut?  Good!  I’ll  give  this  jackanapes  a hint.  [He 
throivs  lumps  of  mud.] 

Maitreya.  Well ! Who  is  this  pelting  me  with  mud,  as  if  I were 
an  apple-tree  inside  of  a fence? 

Charudatta.  Doubtless  the  pigeons  that  play  on  the  roof  of  the 

* 

garden-house. 

Maitreya.  Wait  a minute,  you  confounded  pigeon!  With  this 
stick  I ’ll  bring  you  down  from  the  roof  to  the  ground,  like  an 
over-ripe  mango.  [He  raises  his  stick  and  starts  to  run.] 


P.  136.8] 


THE  STORM 


79 


Charudatta.  [ Holding  him  back  by  the  sacred  cord.]  Sit  down,  my 
friend.  What  do  you  mean  ? Leave  the  poor  pigeon  alone  with  his 
mate. 

Kumbhilaka.  What ! he  sees  the  pigeon  and  doesn’t  see  me ? Good! 
I ’ll  hit  him  again  with  another  lump  of  mud.  [He  does  so.] 
Maitreya.  [Looks  about  him.]  What!  Kumbhilaka?  I’ll  be  with  you 
in  a minute.  [He  approaches  and  opens  the  gate.]  Well,  Kumbhi- 
laka, come  in.  I ’m  glad  to  see  you. 

Kumbhilaka.  [Enters.]  I salute  you,  sir. 

Maitreya.  Where  do  you  come  from,  man,  in  this  rain  and  dark- 
ness? 

Kumbhilaka.  You  see,  she’s  here. 

Maitreya.  Who’s  she?  Who’s  here? 

Kumbhilaka.  She.  See?  She. 

Maitreya.  Look  here,  you  son  of  a slave ! What  makes  you  sigh 
like  a half-starved  old  beggar  in  a famine,  with  your  “shesheshe”? 
Kumbhilaka.  And  what  makes  you  hoot  like  an  owl  with  your 
“whowhowho”? 

Maitreya.  All  right.  Tell  me. 

Kumbhilaka.  [Aside.]  Suppose  I say  it  this  way.  [Aloud.]  I ’ll  give 
you  a riddle,  man. 

Maitreya.  And  I ’ll  give  you  the  answer  with  my  foot  on  your 
bald  spot. 

Kumbhilaka.  Not  till  you’ve  guessed  it.  In  what  season  do  the 
mango-trees  blossom? 

Maitreya.  In  summer,  you  jackass. 

Kumbhilaka.  [Laughing.]  Wrong! 

Maitreya.  [Aside.]  What  shall  I say  now?  [Reflecting.]  Good!  I’ll 
go  and  ask  Charudatta.  [Aloud.]  Just  wait  a moment.  [Approach- 
ing Charudatta.]  My  friend,  I just  wanted  to  ask  you  in  what 
season  the  mango-trees  blossom. 


80 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[81.3  S. 


Charudatta.  You  fool,  in  spring,  in  vasanta. 

Maitreya.  [Returns  to  Kumbhilaka .]  You  fool,  in  spring,  in  va- 
santa. 

Kumbhilaka.  Now  1 11  give  you  another.  Who  guards  thriving 
villages  ? 

Maitreya.  Why,  the  guard. 

Kumbhilaka.  [. Laughing .]  Wrong! 

Maitreya.  Well,  I ’m  stuck.  [Reflecting.']  Good ! 1 11  ask  Charudatta 
again.  [He  returns  and  puts  the  question  to  Charudatta.] 
Charudatta.  The  army,  my  friend,  the  sena. 

Maitreya.  [Comes  back  to  Kumbhilaka.]  The  army,  you  jackass,  the 

senci. 

Kumbhilaka.  Now  put  the  two  together  and  say  ’em  fast. 
Maitreya.  Sena-vasanta. 

Kumbhilaka.  Say  it  turned  around. 

Maitreya.  [Turns  around.]  Sena-vasanta. 

Kumbhilaka.  You  fool!  you  jackanapes!  Turn  the  parts  of  the  thing 
around! 

Maitreya.  [Turns  his  feet  around.]  Sena-vasanta. 

Kumbhilaka.  You  fool!  Turn  the  parts  of  the  word  around! 
Maitreya.  [After  reflection.]  Vasanta-sena. 

Kumbhilaka.  She ’s  here. 

Maitreya.  Then  I must  tell  Charudatta.  [Approaching.]  Well, 
Charudatta,  your  creditor  is  here. 

Charudatta.  How  should  a creditor  come  into  my  family? 
Maitreya.  Not  in  the  family  perhaps,  but  at  the  door.  Vasantasena 
is  here. 

Charudatta.  Why  do  you  deceive  me,  my  friend  ? 

Maitreya.  If  you  can  t trust  me,  then  ask  Kumbhilaka  here. 
Kumbhilaka,  you  jackass,  come  here. 


P.  140.4] 


THE  STORM 


81 


Kumbhllaka.  [. Approaching .]  I salute  you,  sir. 

Charudatta.  You  are  welcome,  my  good  fellow.  Tell  me,  is  Va- 
santasena  really  here? 

Kumbhllaka.  Yes,  she ’s  here.  Vasantasena  is  here. 

Charudatta.  [Joyfully.]  My  good  fellow,  I have  never  let  the 
bearer  of  welcome  news  go  unrewarded.  Take  this  as  your  recom- 
pense. [He  gives  him  his  mantle.] 

Kumbhllaka.  [Takes  it  and  bows.  Gleefully.]  I ’ll  tell  my  mistress. 

[Exit. 

Maitreya.  Do  you  see  why  she  comes  in  a storm  like  this? 
Charudatta.  I do  not  quite  understand,  my  friend. 

Maitreya.  I know.  She  has  an  idea  that  the  pearl  necklace  is 
cheap,  and  the  golden  casket  expensive.  She  is  n’t  satisfied,  and 
she  has  come  to  look  for  something  more. 

Charudatta.  [Aside.]  She  shall  not  depart  unsatisfied. 

[Then  enter  the  love-lorn  Vasantasena,  in  a splendid  garment,  fit 
for  a woman  who  goes  to  meet  her  lover,  a maid  with  an  umbrella, 
and  the  courtier.] 

Courtier.  [Referring  to  Vasantasena.] 

Lakshml1  without  the  lotus-flower  is  she, 

Loveliest  arrow  of  god  Kama’s  bow,2 
The  sweetest  blossom  on  love’s  magic  tree. 

See  how  she  moves,  so  gracefully  and  slow! 

In  passion’s  hour  she  still  loves  modesty; 

In  her,  good  wives  their  dearest  sorrow  know. 

When  passion’s  drama  shall  enacted  be, 

When  on  love’s  stage  appears  the  passing  show, 

A host  of  wanderers  shall  bend  them  low, 

Glad  to  be  slaves  in  such  captivity.  12 

1 The  goddess  of  wealth  and  beauty,  usually  represented  with  a lotus. 

2 Kama’s  (Cupid’s)  arrows  are  flowers. 


82 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[82.24  S. 


See,  Vasantasena,  see! 

The  clouds  hang  drooping  to  the  mountain  peaks. 

Like  a maiden’s  heart,  that  distant  lover  seeks: 

The  peacocks  startle,  when  the  thunder  booms. 

And  fan  the  heaven  with  all  their  jeweled 
And  again: 

Mud-stained,  and  pelted  by  the  streaming  rain, 

To  drink  the  falling  drops  the  frogs  are  fain; 

Full-throated  peacocks  love’s  shrill  passion  show, 

And  nipa  flowers  like  brilliant  candles  glow; 

Unfaithful  clouds  obscure  the  hostage  moon, 

Like  knaves,  unworthy  of  so  dear  a boon; 

Like  some  poor  maid  of  better  breeding  bare, 

The  impatient  lightning  rests  not  anywhere.  14 

Vasantasena } Sir,  what  you  say  is  most  true.  For 
The  night,  an  angry  rival,  bars  my  way; 

Her  thunders  fain  would  check  and  hinder  me: 

“Fond  fool!  with  him  I love  thou  shalt  not  stay, 

’Tis  I,  ’t  is  I,  he  loves,”  she  seems  to  say, 

“Nor  from  my  swelling  bosom  shall  he  flee.”  15 

Courtier.  Yes,  yes.  That  is  right.  Scold  the  night. 

Vasantasena.  And  yet,  sir,  why  scold  one  who  is  so  ignorant  of 
woman’s  nature?  For  you  must  remember: 

The  clouds  may  rain,  may  thunder  ne’er  so  bold, 

May  flash  the  lightning  from  the  sky  above; 

That  woman  little  recks  of  heat  or  cold, 

Who  journeys  to  her  love.  16 

Courtier.  But  see,  Vasantasena!  Another  cloud, 

Sped  by  the  fickle  fury  of  the  air — 

A flood  of  arrows  in  his  rushing  streams, 

His  drum,  the  roaring  thunder’s  mighty  blare, 

His  banner,  living  lightning’s  awful  gleams — 

1 Throughout  this  scene,  Vasantasena’s  verses  are  in  Sanskrit.  Compare  note  1 on  page  73. 


plumes.  13 


P.  142.*)] 


THE  STORM 


83 


Rages  within  the  sky,  and  shows  him  bold 
’Mid  beams  that  to  the  moon  allegiance  owe, 

Like  a hero-king  within  the  hostile  hold 

Of  his  un warlike  foe.  17 

Vasantasena.  True,  true.  And  more  than  this: 

As  dark  as  elephants,  these  clouds  alone 
Fall  like  a cruel  dart — 

With  streaks  of  lightning  and  with  white  birds  strewn — 

To  wound  my  wretched  heart. 

But,  oh,  why  should  the  heron,  bird  of  doom, 

With  that  perfidious  sound 1 
Of  “Rain!  Rain!  Rain!” — grim  summons  to  the  tomb 
For  her  who  spends  her  lonely  hours  in  gloom  — 

Strew  salt  upon  the  wound?  18 

Courtier.  Very  true,  Vasantasena.  And  yet  again: 

It  seems  as  if  the  sky  would  take  the  guise 
Of  some  fierce  elephant  to  service  bred ; 

The  lightning  like  a waving  streamer  flies, 

And  white  cranes  serve  to  deck  his  mighty  head.  19 

Vasantasena.  But  look,  sir,  look ! 

Clouds,  black  as  wet  tamala-leaves,  the  ball 
Of  heaven  hide  from  our  sight ; 

Rain-smitten  homes  of  ants  decay  and  fall 
Like  beasts  that  arrows  smite ; 

Like  golden  lamps  within  a lordly  hall 
Wander  the  lightnings  bright; 

As  when  men  steal  the  wife  of  some  base  thrall, 

Clouds  rob  the  moon  of  light.  20 

Courtier.  See,  Vasantasena,  see! 

Clouds,  harnessed  in  the  lightning’s  gleams, 

Like  charging  elephants  dash  by ; 


1 The  cry  of  the  heron  resembles  the  Sanskrit  word  for  “ rain.”  Indian  love-poetry  often  paints 
the  sorrow,  even  unto  death,  of  her  whose  beloved  does  not  return  before  the  rainy  season. 


84 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[84.14  S. 


At  Indra’s  bidding,  pour  their  streams, 

Until  with  silver  cords  it  seems 

That  earth  is  linked  with  sky.  21 

And  look  yonder! 

As  herds  of  buffaloes  the  clouds  are  black ; 

The  winds  deny  them  ease; 

They  fly  on  lightning  wings  and  little  lack 
Of  seeming  troubled  seas. 

Smitten  with  falling  drops,  the  fragrant  sod, 

Upon  whose  bosom  greenest  grasses  nod, 

Seems  pierced  with  pearls,  each  pearl  an  arrowy  rod.  22 
Vasantasena.  And  here  is  yet  another  cloud. 

The  peacock’s  shrill-voiced  cry 
Implores  it  to  draw  nigh; 

And  ardent  cranes  on  high 
Embrace  it  lovingly. 

The  wistful  swans  espy 
The  lotus-sweeter  sky; 

The  darkest  colors  lie 

On  heaven  clingingly.  28 

Courtier.  True.  For  see! 

A thousand  lotuses  that  bloom  by  night, 

A thousand  blooming  when  the  day  is  bright, 

Nor  close  nor  ope  their  eyes  to  heaven’s  sight; 

There  is  no  night  nor  day. 

The  face  of  heaven,  thus  shrouded  in  the  night, 

Is  only  for  a single  instant  bright. 

When  momentary  lightning  gives  us  sight; 

Else  is  it  dark  alway. 

Now  sleeps  the  world  as  still  as  in  the  night 
Within  the  house  of  rain  where  naught  is  bright, 


P.  143.-20] 


THE  STORM 


85 


Where  hosts  of  swollen  clouds  seem  to  our  sight 

One  covering  veil  of  gray.  24 

Vasantasena.  True.  And  see! 

The  stars  are  lost  like  mercies  given 
To  men  of  evil  heart; 

Like  lonely-parted  wives,  the  heaven 
Sees  all  her  charms  depart. 

And,  molten  in  the  cruel  heat 
Of  Indra’s  bolt,  it  seems 
As  if  the  sky  fell  at  our  feet 

In  liquid,  flowing  streams.  25 

And  yet  again: 

The  clouds  first  darkly  rise,  then  darkly  fall, 

Send  forth  their  floods  of  rain,  and  thunder  all ; 

Assuming  postures  strange  and  manifold, 

Like  men  but  newly  blest  with  wealth  untold.  26 

Courtier.  True. 

The  heaven  is  radiant  with  the  lightning’s  glare; 

Its  laughter  is  the  cry  of  myriad  cranes; 

Its  voice,  the  bolts  that  whistle  through  the  air; 

Its  dance,  that  bow  whose  arrows  are  the  rains. 

It  staggers  at  the  winds,  and  seems  to  smoke 
With  clouds,  which  form  its  black  and  snaky  cloak.  27 
Vasantasena.  O shameless,  shameless  sky! 

To  thunder  thus,  while  I 
To  him  I love  draw  nigh. 

Why  do  thy  thunders  frighten  me  and  pain? 

Why  am  I seized  upon  by  hands  of  rain  ? 28 

O Indra,  mighty  Indra! 

Did  I then  give  thee  of  my  love  before, 

That  now  thy  clouds  like  mighty  lions  roar? 

Ah  no ! Thou  shouldst  not  send  thy  streaming  rain, 

To  fill  my  journey  to  my  love  with  pain. 


29 


86 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[85.25  S. 


Remember : 

For  Ahalyas  sweet  sake  thou  once  didst  lie; 

Thou  knowest  lover’s  pain. 

As  thou  didst  suffer  then,  now  suffer  I ; 

O cruel,  cease  thy  rain.  30 

And  yet: 

Thunder  and  rain  and  lighten  hundredfold 
Forth  from  thy  sky  above; 

The  woman  canst  thou  not  delay  nor  hold 

Who  journeys  to  her  love.  31 

Let  thunders  roar,  for  men  were  cruel  ever; 

But  oh,  thou  maiden  lightning!  didst  thou  never 

Know  pains  that  maidens  know?  32 

Courtier.  But  mistress,  do  not  scold  the  lightning.  She  is  your 
friend, 

This  golden  cord  that  trembles  on  the  breast 
Of  great  Airavata;1  upon  the  crest 
Of  rocky  hills  this  banner  all  ablaze; 

This  lamp  in  Indra’s  palace;  but  most  blest 

As  telling  where  your  most  beloved  stays.  33 

Vasantasena.  And  here,  sir,  is  his  house. 

Courtier.  You  know  all  the  arts,  and  need  no  instruction  now. 
Yet  love  bids  me  prattle.  When  you  enter  here,  you  must  not 
show  yourself  too  angry. 

Where  anger  is,  there  love  is  not; 

Or  no ! except  for  anger  hot, 

There  is  no  love. 

Be  angry ! make  him  angry  then ! 

Be  kind!  and  make  him  kind  again — 

The  man  you  love.  34 

So  much  for  that.  Who  is  there?  Let  Charudatta  know,  that 


1 The  elephant  of  Indra.  Indra  is  the  god  of  the  thunderstorm. 


P.  146.17] 


THE  STORM 


87 


While  clouds  look  beautiful,  and  in  the  hour 
Fragrant  with  nlpa  and  kadamba  flower, 

She  comes  to  see  her  lover,  very  wet, 

With  dripping  locks,  but  pleased  and  loving  yet. 

Though  lightning  and  though  thunder  terrifies, 

She  comes  to  see  you;  ’t  is  for  you  she  sighs. 

The  mud  still  soils  the  anklets  on  her  feet, 

But  in  a moment  she  will  have  them  sweet.  35 

Charudatta.  [ Listening .]  My  friend,  pray  discover  what  this  means. 
Maitreya.  Yes,  sir.  [He  approaches  Vasantasena . Respectfully .] 
Heaven  bless  you ! 

Vasantasena.  I salute  you,  sir.  I am  very  glad  to  see  you.  [To  the 
courtier.]  Sir,  the  maid  with  the  umbrella  is  at  your  service. 
Courtier.  [ Aside .]  A very  clever  way  to  get  rid  of  me.  [Aloud. ] 
Thank  you.  And  mistress  Vasantasena, 

Pride  and  tricks  and  lies  and  fraud 
Are  in  your  face; 

False  playground  of  the  lustful  god. 

Such  is  your  face ; 

The  wench’s  stock  in  trade,  in  fine, 

Epitome  of  joys  divine, 

I mean,  your  face — 

For  sale!  the  price  is  courtesy. 

I trust  you  ’ll  find  a man  to  buy 

Your  face.  [Exit.]  36 

Vasantasena.  Good  Maitreya,  where  is  your  gambler? 

Maitreya.  [Aside.]  “Gambler”?  Ah,  she ’s  paying  a compliment  to 
my  friend.  [Aloud.]  Madam,  here  he  is  in  the  dry  orchard. 
Vasantasena.  But  sir,  what  do  you  call  a dry  orchard? 

Maitreya.  Madam,  it ’s  a place  where  there ’s  nothing  to  eat  or 
drink.  [Vasantasena  smiles.]  Pray  enter,  madam. 

Vasantasena.  [Aside  to  her  maid.]  What  shall  I say  when  I enter? 


88 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[87.17  S. 


Maid.  “Gambler,  what  luck  this  evening?” 

Vasantasena.  Shall  I dare  to  say  it  ? 

Maid.  When  the  time  comes,  it  will  say  itself. 

Maitreya.  Enter,  madam. 

Vasantasena.  [ Enters , approaches  Charudatta,  and  strikes  him  with 
the  flowers  which  she  holds.]  Well,  gambler,  what  luck  this  evening? 
Charudatta.  [Discovers  her.]  Ah,  Vasantasena  is  here.  [He  rises 
joyfully.']  Oh,  my  beloved, 

My  evenings  pass  in  watching  ever, 

My  nights  from  sighs  are  never  free; 

This  evening  cannot  else  than  sever — 

In  bringing  you — my  grief  and  me.  37 

You  are  very,  very  welcome.  Here  is  a seat.  Pray  be  seated. 
Maitreya.  Here  is  a seat.  Be  seated,  madam.  [Vasantasena  sits, 
then  the  others.] 

Charudatta.  But  see,  my  friend. 

The  dripping  flower  that  decks  her  ear,  droops  down, 

And  one  sweet  breast 

Anointed  is,  like  a prince  who  wears  the  crown, 

With  ointment  blest.  38 

My  friend,  Vasantasena’s  garments  are  wet.  Let  other,  and  most 
beautiful,  garments  be  brought. 

Maitreya.  Yes,  sir. 

Maid.  Good  Maitreya,  do  you  stay  here.  I will  wait  upon  my  mis- 
tress. [She  does  so.] 

Maitreya.  [Aside  to  Charudatta.]  My  friend,  I d just  like  to  ask 
the  lady  a question. 

Charudatta.  Then  do  so. 

Maitreya.  [Aloud.]  Madam,  what  made  you  come  here,  when  it 
is  so  stormy  and  dark  that  you  can’t  see  the  moon  ? 

Maid.  Mistress,  the  Brahman  is  very  plain-spoken. 


P.  148.17] 


THE  STORM 


89 


Vasantasena.  You  might  better  call  him  clever. 

Maid . My  mistress  came  to  ask  how  much  that  pearl  necklace  is 
worth. 

Maitreya.  [ Aside  to  Charudatta.]  There!  I told  you  so.  She  thinks 
the  pearl  necklace  is  cheap,  and  the  golden  casket  is  expensive. 
She  is  n’t  satisfied.  She  has  come  to  look  for  something  more. 
Maid.  For  my  mistress  imagined  that  it  was  her  own,  and  gambled 
it  away.  And  nobody  knows  where  the  gambling-master  has  gone, 
for  he  is  employed  in  the  king’s  business. 

Maitreya.  Madam,  you  are  simply  repeating  what  somebody  said 
before. 

Maid.  While  we  are  looking  for  him,  pray  take  this  golden  cas- 
ket. [She  displays  the  casket.  Maitreya  hesitates.']  Sir,  you  examine 
it  very  closely.  Did  you  ever  see  it  before? 

Maitreya.  No,  madam,  but  the  skilful  workmanship  captivates 
the  eye. 

Maid.  Your  eyes  deceive  you,  sir.  This  is  the  golden  casket. 
Maitreya.  [Joyfully.]  Well,  my  friend,  here  is  the  golden  casket, 
the  very  one  that  thieves  stole  from  our  house. 

Charudatta.  My  friend. 

The  artifice  we  tried  before, 

Her  stolen  treasure  to  restore, 

Is  practised  now  on  us.  But  no, 

I cannot  think ’t  is  really  so.  39 

Maitreya.  But  it  is  so.  I swear  it  on  my  Brahmanhood. 
Charudatta.  This  is  welcome  news. 

Maitreya.  [Aside  to  Charudatta.]  I ’m  going  to  ask  where  they 
found  it. 

Charudatta.  I see  no  harm  in  that. 

Maitreya.  [Whispers  in  the  maid's  ear.]  There! 

Maid.  [ Whispers  in  Maitreya' s ear.]  So  there! 


90 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[89.19  S. 


Charudatta.  What  is  it?  and  why  are  we  left  out? 

Maitreya.  [ Whispers  in  Charudatta  s car.']  So  there ! 

Charudatta.  My  good  girl,  is  this  really  the  same  golden  casket? 
Maid.  Yes,  sir,  the  very  same. 

Charudatta.  My  good  girl,  I have  never  let  the  bearer  of  welcome 
news  go  unrewarded.  Take  this  ring  as  your  recompense.  [He 
looks  at  his  finger,  notices  that  the  ring  is  gone,  and  betrays  his 
embarrassment.] 

Vasantasena.  [To  herself.]  I love  you  for  that. 

Charudatta.  [Aside  to  Maitreya .]  Alas, 

When  in  this  world  a man  has  lost  his  all, 

Why  should  he  set  his  heart  on  longer  life? 

His  angers  and  his  favors  fruitless  fall, 

His  purposes  and  powers  are  all  at  strife.  40 

Like  wingless  birds,  dry  pools,  or  withered  trees, 

Like  fangless  snakes — the  poor  are  like  to  these.  41 

Like  man-deserted  houses,  blasted  trees, 

Like  empty  wells — the  poor  are  like  to  these. 

For  them  no  pleasant  hours  serve  happy  ends; 

They  are  forgotten  of  their  sometime  friends.  42 

Maitreya.  But  you  must  not  grieve  thus  beyond  reason.  [He 
bursts  out  laughing.  Aloud.]  Madam,  please  give  me  back  my 
bath-clout. 

Vasantasena.  Charudatta,  it  was  not  right  that  you  should  show 
your  distrust  of  me  by  .sending  me  this  pearl  necklace. 
Charudatta.  [ With  an  embarrassed  smile.]  But  remember,  Vasanta- 
sena, 

Who  will  believe  the  truth? 

Suspicion  now  is  sure. 

This  world  will  show  no  ruth 
To  the  inglorious  poor. 


43 


P.  152.4] 


THE  STORM 


91 


Maitreya.  Tell  me,  girl,  are  you  going  to  sleep  here  to-night? 
Maid.  [Laughing.]  But  good  Maitreya,  you  show  yourself  most 
remarkably  plain-spoken  now. 

Maitreya.  See,  my  friend,  the  rain  enters  again  in  great  streams, 
as  if  it  wanted  to  drive  people  away  when  they  are  sitting  com- 
fortably together. 

Charudatta.  You  are  quite  right. 

The  falling  waters  pierce  the  cloud, 

As  lotus-shoots  the  soil; 

And  tears  the  face  of  heaven  shroud, 

Who  weeps  the  moon’s  vain  toil.  44 

And  again: 

In  streams  as  pure  as  thoughts  to  good  men  given, 

But  merciless  as  darts  that  Aijun  hurls, 

And  black  as  Baladeva’s  cloak,  the  heaven 

Seems  to  pour  out  all  Indra’s  hoarded  pearls.  45 

See,  my  beloved,  see! 

The  heaven  is  painted  with  the  blackest  dye, 

And  fanned  by  cool  and  fragrant  evening  airs ; 

Red  lightning,  glad  in  union,  clasps  the  sky 
With  voluntary  arms,  and  shows  on  high 

The  love  that  maiden  heart  to  lover  bears.  46 

[Vasantasena  betrays  her  passion,  and  throws  her  arms  about 
Charudatta.  Charudatta  feels  her  touch,  and  embraces  her.] 
Charudatta.  More  grimly  yet,  O thunder,  boom ; 

For  by  thy  grace  and  power 
My  love-distracted  limbs  now  bloom 
Like  the  kadamba  flower. 

Her  dear  touch  all  my  being  thrills, 

And  love  my  inmost  spirit  fills.  47 

Maitreya.  Confound  you,  storm!  You  are  no  gentleman,  to 
frighten  the  lady  with  the  lightning. 


92 


ACT  THE  FIFTH 


[91.20  S. 


Charudatta.  Do  not  rebuke  the  storm,  my  friend. 

Let  ceaseless  rain  a hundred  years  endure, 

The  lightning  quiver,  and  the  thunder  peal; 

For  what  I deemed  impossible  is  sure: 

Her  dear-loved  arms  about  my  neck  I feel.  48 

And  oh,  my  friend, 

He  only  knows  what  riches  are, 

Whose  love  comes  to  him  from  afar, 

Whose  arms  that  dearest  form  enfold, 

While  yet  with  rain ’t  is  wet  and  cold.  49 

Vasantasena,  my  beloved, 

The  masonry  is  shaken;  and  so  old 

The  awning,  that ’t  will  not  much  longer  hold. 

Heavy  with  water  is  the  painted  wall, 

From  which  dissolving  bits  of  mortar  fall.  50 

[He  looks  up.~\  The  rainbow!  See,  my  beloved,  see! 

See  how  they  yawn,  the  cloudy  jaws  of  heaven, 

As  by  a tongue,  by  forked  lightning  riven; 

And  to  the  sky  great  Indra’s  fiery  bow 
In  lieu  of  high-uplifted  arms  is  given.  51 

Come,  let  us  seek  a shelter.  [He  rises  and  walks  about.~\ 

On  palm-trees  shrill, 

On  thickets  still, 

On  boulders  dashing, 

On  waters  splashing, 

Like  a lute  that,  smitten,  sings, 

The  rainy  music  rings.  52 

[Exeunt  omnes. 


ACT  THE  SIXTH 

THE  SWAPPING  OF  THE  BULLOCK-CARTS 


Maid  [ Enter  a maid.] 

IS  N’T  my  mistress  awake  yet?  Well,  I must  go  in  and  wake 
her.  [ She  walks  about.  Vasantasena  appears,  dressed,  but  still 
asleep.  The  maid  discovers  her.]  It  is  time  to  get  up,  mistress.  The 
morning  is  here. 

Vasantasena.  [Awakening.]  What!  is  the  night  over?  is  it  morn- 
ing? 

Maid.  For  us  it  is  morning.  But  for  my  mistress  it  appears  to  be 
night  still. 

Vasantasena.  But  girl,  where  is  your  gambler? 

Maid.  Mistress,  after  giving  Vardhamanaka  his  orders,  Charu- 
datta  went  to  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda. 

Vasantasena.  What  orders? 

Maid.  To  have  the  bullock-cart  ready  before  daylight;  for,  he 
said,  Vasantasena  was  to  come — 

Vasantasena.  Where,  girl? 

Maid.  Where  Charudatta  is. 


Vasantasena.  [. Embraces  the  maid.]  I did  not  have  a good  look  at 
him  in  the  evening.  But  to-day  I shall  see  him  face  to  face.  Tell 
me,  girl.  Have  I found  my  way  into  the  inner  court? 

Maid.  You  have  found  your  way  not  only  into  the  inner  court, 
but  into  the  heart  of  every  one  who  lives  here. 

Vasantasena.  Tell  me,  are  Charudatta’s  servants  vexed? 

Maid.  They  will  be. 

Vasantasena.  When? 

Maid.  When  my  mistress  goes  away. 

Vasantasena.  But  not  so  much  as  I shall  be.  [ Persuasively .]  Here, 


94 


ACT  THE  SIXTH 


[94.3  S. 


girl,  take  this  pearl  necklace.  You  must  go  and  give  it  to  my  lady 
sister,  his  good  wife.  And  give  her  this  message : “ W orthy  Charu- 
datta’s  virtues  have  won  me,  made  me  his  slave,  and  therefore  your 
slave  also.  And  so  I hope  that  these  pearls  may  adorn  your  neck.” 
Maid.  But  mistress,  Charudatta  will  be  angry  with  you. 
Vasantasena.  Go.  He  will  not  be  angry. 

Maid.  [ Takes  the  necklace.]  Yes,  mistress.  [She  goes  out,  then  re- 
turns.]  Mistress,  his  lady  wife  says  that  her  lord  made  you  a pre- 
sent of  it,  and  it  would  not  be  right  for  her  to  accept  it.  And  fur- 
ther, that  you  are  to  know  that  her  lord  and  husband  is  her  most 
excellent  adornment. 

[ Enter  Radanika,  with  Charudatta' s little  son.] 
Radanika.  Come,  dear,  let ’s  play  with  your  little  cart. 

Rohasena.  [ Peevishly .]  I don’t  like  this  little  clay  cart,  Radanika. 
Give  me  my  gold  cart. 

Radanika.  [Sighing  wearily .]  How  should  we  have  anything  to  do 
with  gold  now,  my  child  ? When  your  papa  is  rich  again,  then  you 
shall  have  a gold  cart  to  play  with.  But  I ’ll  amuse  him  by  taking 
him  to  see  Vasantasena.  [ She  approaches  Vasantasena .]  Mistress, 
my  service  to  you. 

Vasantasena.  I am  glad  to  see  you,  Radanika.  But  whose  little 
boy  is  this  ? He  wears  no  ornaments,  yet  his  dear  little  face  makes 
my  heart  happy. 

Radanika.  This  is  Charudatta’s  son,  Rohasena. 

Vasantasena.  [ Stretches  out  her  arms.]  Come,  my  boy,  and  put 
your  little  arms  around  me.  [She  takes  him  on  her  lap.]  He  looks 
just  like  his  father. 

Radanika.  More  than  looks  like  him,  he  is  like  him.  At  least  I 
think  so.  His  father  is  perfectly  devoted  to  him. 

Vasantasena.  But  w'hat  is  he  crying  about? 

Radanika.  He  used  to  play  with  a gold  cart  that  belongs  to  the 
son  of  a neighbor.  But  that  was  taken  away,  and  when  he  asked 


P.158.10]  SWAPPING  THE  BULLOCK-CARTS 


95 


for  it,  I made  him  this  little  clay  cart.  But  when  I gave  it  to  him, 
he  said  “I  don’t  like  this  little  clay  cart,  Radanika.  Give  me  my 
gold  cart.” 

Vasantasena.  Oh,  dear!  To  think  that  this  little  fellow  has  to  suffer 
because  others  are  wealthy.  Ah,  mighty  Fate ! the  destinies  of  men, 
uncertain  as  the  water-drops  which  fall  upon  a lotus-leaf,  seem  to 
thee  but  playthings!  [ Tearfully .]  Don’t  cry,  my  child.  You  shall 
have  a gold  cart  to  play  with. 

Rohasena.  Who  is  she,  Radanika? 

Vasantasena.  A slave  of  your  father’s,  won  by  his  virtues. 
Radanika.  My  child,  the  lady  is  your  mother. 

Rohasena.  That’s  a lie,  Radanika.  If  the  lady  is  my  mother,  why 
does  she  wear  those  pretty  ornaments  ? 

V asantasena.  My  child,  your  innocent  lips  can  say  terrible  things. 
[She  removes  her  ornaments.  Weeping .]  Now  I am  your  mother. 
You  shall  take  these  ornaments  and  have  a gold  cart  made  for  you. 
Rohasena.  Go  away!  I won’t  take  them.  You’re  crying. 

V asantasena.  [ Wiping  away  her  tears .]  I ’ll  not  cry,  dear.  There ! 
go  and  play.  [She  Jills  the  clay  cart  with  her  jewels.']  There,  dear, 
you  must  have  a little  gold  cart  made  for  you. 

[Exit  Radanika,  with  Rohasena. 
[Enter  Vardhamanaka,  driving  a bullock-cart.] 
Vardhamanaka.  Radanika,  Radanika!  Tell  mistress  Vasantasena 
that  the  covered  cart  is  standing  ready  at  the  side-door. 
Radanika.  [Entering.]  Mistress,  Vardhamanaka  is  here,  and  he 
says  that  the  cart  is  waiting  at  the  side-door. 

Vasantasena.  He  must  wait  a minute,  girl,  while  I get  ready. 
Rad.  Wait  a minute,  Vardhamanaka,  while  she  gets  ready.  [Exit. 
V ardhamanaka.  Hello,  I ’ve  forgotten  the  cushion.  I must  go  and 
get  it.  But  the  nose-rope  makes  the  bullocks  skittish.  I suppose  I 
had  better  take  the  cart  along  with  me.  [Exit. 


96 


ACT  THE  SIXTH 


[96.14  S. 


Vasantasena.  Bring  me  my  things,  girl.  I must  make  myself  ready. 
[She  does  so.] 

[Enter , driving  a bullock-cart,  Sthavar aka,  servant  to  Sansthanaka.] 
Sthavaraka.  Sansthanaka,  the  king’s  brother-in-law,  said  to  me 
“Take  a bullock-cart,  Sthavaraka,  and  come  as  quick  as  you  can 
to  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda.”  Well,  I ’m  on  my  way  there. 
Get  up,  bullocks,  get  up!  [He  drives  about  and  looks  around '.] 
Why,  the  road  is  blocked  with  villagers’  carts.  What  am  I to  do 
now?  [Haughtily.']  Get  out  of  my  way,  you!  Get  out  of  my  way! 
[He  listens.]  What’s  that?  you  want  to  know  whose  cart  this  is? 
This  cart  belongs  to  Sansthanaka,  the  king’s  brother-in-law.  So 
get  out  of  my  way — and  this  minute,  too!  [He  looks  about.]  Why, 
here ’s  a man  going  in  the  other  direction  as  fast  as  he  can.  He  is 
trying  to  hide  like  a runaway  gambler,  and  he  looks  at  me  as  if  I 
were  the  gambling-master.  I wonder  who  he  is.  But  then,  what 
business  is  it  of  mine?  I must  get  there  as  soon  as  I can.  Get  out 
of  my  way,  you  villagers,  get  out  of  my  way ! What ’s  that  ? you 
want  me  to  wait  a minute  and  put  a shoulder  to  your  wheel  ? Con- 
found you!  A brave  man  like  me,  that  serves  Sansthanaka,  the 
king’s  brother-in-law,  put  a shoulder  to  your  wheel  ? After  all,  the 
poor  fellow  is  quite  alone.  I ’ll  do  it.  I ’ll  stop  my  cart  at  the  side- 
door  to  Charudatta’s  orchard.  [He  does  so.]  I ’m  coming!  [Exit. 
Maid.  Mistress,  I think  I hear  the  sound  of  wheels.  The  cart 
must  be  here. 

Vasantasena.  Come,  girl.  My  heart  grows  impatient.  Go  with  me 
to  the  side-door. 

Maid.  Follow  me,  mistress. 

Vasantasena.  [Walks  about.]  You  have  earned  a rest,  girl. 

Maid.  Thank  you,  mistress.  [Exit. 

Vasantasena.  [Feels  her  right  eye  twitch 1 as  she  enters  the  cart.] 


1 A bad  omen,  in  the  ease  of  a woman. 


p.162.8]  SWAPPING  THE  BULLOCK-CARTS 


97 


Why  should  my  right  eye  twitch  now?  But  the  sight  of  Charu- 
datta  will  smooth  away  the  bad  omen.  [ Enter  Sthavaraka.] 

Sthavaraka.  I ve  cleared  the  carts  out  of  the  way,  and  now  I ’ll 
go  ahead.  [ He  mounts  and  drives  away.  To  himself !]  The  cart  has 
grown  heavy.  But  I suppose  it  only  seems  so,  because  I got  tired 
helping  them  with  that  wheel.  Well,  I ’ll  go  along.  Get  up,  bul- 
locks, get  up ! 

A voice  behind  the  scenes.  Police ! Police ! Every  man  at  his  post ! 
The  young  herdsman  has  just  broken  jail,  killed  the  jailer,  bro- 
ken his  fetters,  escaped,  and  run  away.  Catch  him!  Catch  him! 

[Enter,  in  excited  haste,  Ary  aka,  an  iron  chain  on  one  foot.  Cover- 
ing his  face,  he  walks  about.] 

Sthavaraka.  [To  himself.]  There  is  great  excitement  in  the  city.  I 
must  get  out  of  the  way  as  fast  as  I possibly  can.  [Exit. 

Ary  aka.  I leave  behind  me  that  accursed  sea 
Of  human  woe  and  human  misery, 

The  prison  of  the  king. 

Like  elephants  that  break  their  chains  and  flee, 

I drag  a fettered  foot  most  painfully 

In  flight  and  wandering.  1 

King  Palaka  was  frightened  by  a prophecy,  took  me  from  the 
hamlet  where  I lived,  fettered  me,  and  thrust  me  into  a solitary 
cell,  there  to  await  my  death.  But  with  the  help  of  my  good  friend 
Sharvilaka  I escaped.  [He  sheds  tears.] 

If  such  my  fate,  no  sin  is  mine  at  least, 

That  he  should  cage  me  like  a savage  beast. 

A man  may  fight  with  kings,  though  not  with  fate — 

And  yet,  can  helpless  men  contend  with  great?  2 

Whither  shall  I go  with  my  wretchedness?  [He  looks  about.]  Here 
is  the  house  of  some  good  man  who  has  n’t  locked  the  side-door. 

The  house  is  old,  the  door  without  a lock, 

The  hinges  all  awry. 


98 


ACT  THE  SIXTH 


[98.18  S. 


Some  man,  no  doubt,  who  feels  misfortune’s  shock 

As  cruelly  as  I.  3 

I will  enter  here  and  wait. 

A voice  behind  the  scenes.  Get  up,  bullocks,  get  up ! 

Ary  aka.  [Listening. ] Ah,  a bullock-cart  is  coming  this  way. 

If  this  should  prove  to  be  a picnic  rig, 

Its  occupants  not  peevishly  inclined; 

Some  noble  lady’s  waiting  carriage  trig; 

Or  rich  man’s  coach,  that  leaves  the  town  behind — 
And  if  it  empty  be,  fate  proving  kind, 

T would  seem  a godsend  to  my  anxious  mind.  4 

[Enter  Vardhamanaka  with  the  bullock-cart .] 

V ardhamanaka.  There,  I ’ve  got  the  cushion.  Radanika,  tell  mis- 
tress Vasantasena  that  the  cart  is  ready  and  waiting  for  her  to  get 
in  and  drive  to  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda. 

Aryaka.  [. Listening .]  This  is  a courtezan’s  cart,  going  out  of  the 
city.  Good,  I ’ll  climb  in.  [He  approaches  cautiously .] 
Vardhamanaka.  [Hears  him  coming .]  Ah,  the  tinkling  of  ankle- 
rings!  The  lady  is  here.  Mistress,  the  nose-rope  makes  the  bul- 
locks skittish.  You  had  better  climb  in  behind.  [Aryaka  does  so.] 
The  ankle-rings  tinkle  only  when  the  feet  are  moving,  and  the 
sound  has  ceased.  Besides,  the  cart  has  grown  heavy.  I am  sure  the 
lady  must  have  climbed  in  by  this  time.  I ’ll  go  ahead.  Get  up, 
bullocks,  get  up ! [He  drives  about.  Enter  Vlraka.] 

Vlraka.  Come,  come!  Jaya,  Jayamana,  Chandanaka,  Mangala, 
Phullabhadra,  and  the  rest  of  you ! 

So  calm,  when  the  herdsman,  slipping  his  tether, 

Breaks  jail  and  the  heart  of  the  king  together  ? 5 

Here!  You  stand  at  the  east  gate  of  the  main  street,  you  at  the 
west,  you  at  the  south,  you  at  the  north.  I ’ll  climb  up  the  broken 
wall  here  with  Chandanaka  and  take  a look.  Come  on,  Chanda- 
naka, come  on!  This  way!  [Enter  Chandanaka,  in  excitement .] 


P.166.5]  SWAPPING  THE  BULLOCK-CARTS 


99 


Chandanaka.  Come,  come ! Yiraka,  Vishalya,  Bhimangada,  Danda- 
kala,  Dandashura,  and  the  rest  of  you! 

Come  quick,  my  reliables!  Work!  Now  begin! 

Lest  the  old  king  go  out,  and  a new  king  come  in.  6 

Search  gardens,  and  dives,  and  the  town,  and  the  street, 

The  market,  the  hamlet,  wherever  you  meet  7 

With  what  looks  suspicious.  Now,  Yiraka,  say. 

Who  saved  the  young  herdsman  that  just  broke  away?  8 
Who  was  born  when  the  sun  in  his  eighth  mansion  stood, 

Or  the  moon  in  her  fourth,  or  when  Jupiter  could 

Be  seen  in  his  sixth,  or  when  Saturn  was  resting 

In  his  ninth,  in  her  sixth  house  when  Venus  was  nesting, 

Or  Mars  in  his  fifth  ? 1 Who  will  dare  to  be  giving 
The  herdsman  protection,  while  I am  still  living?  9,  10 
Vfraka.  Chandanaka,  you  mercenary! 

I swear  on  your  heart,  he ’s  been  long  out  of  prison, 

For  the  herdsman  escaped  ere  the  sun  was  half  risen.  11 
V ardhamanaka.  Get  up,  bullocks,  get  up! 

Chandanaka.  [Discovers  him.']  Look,  man,  look ! 

A covered  cart  is  moving  in  the  middle  of  the  road; 
Investigate  it,  whose  it  is,  and  where  it  takes  its  load!  12 
Vlraka.  [Discovers  him.]  Here,  driver,  stop  your  cart!  Whose  cart 
is  this?  who  is  in  it?  where  is  it  going? 

Vardhamanaka.  This  is  Charudatta’s  cart.  Mistress  Vasantasena 
is  in  it.  I am  taking  her  to  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda  to  meet 
Charudatta. 

Vlraka.  [Approaches  Chandanaka.]  The  driver  says  it  is  Charu- 
datta’s cart;  that  Vasantasena  is  in  it;  that  he  is  taking  her  to  the 
old  garden  Pushpakaranda. 

Chandanaka.  Then  let  it  pass. 

Vlraka.  Without  inspection? 

1 Lalladlkshita  says  that  these  horoscopes  indicate  respectively  distress,  colic,  stupidity,  pov- 
erty, sorrow,  destruction. 


100 


ACT  THE  SIXTH 


[101.3  S. 


Chandanaka.  Certainly. 

Viraka.  On  whose  authority? 

Chandanaka.  On  Charudatta’s. 

Viraka.  Who  is  Charudatta,  or  who  is  Vasantasena,  that  the  cart 
should  pass  without  inspection? 

Chandanaka.  Don't  you  know  Charudatta,  man?  nor  Vasantasena? 
If  you  don’t  know  Charudatta,  nor  Vasantasena,  then  you  don’t 
know  the  moon  in  heaven,  nor  the  moonlight. 

Who  does  n’t  know  this  moon  of  goodness,  virtue’s  lotus- 
flower, 

This  gem  of  four  broad  seas,  this  savior  in  man’s  luckless 
hour?  13 

These  two  are  wholly  worshipful,  our  city’s  ornaments, 
Vasantasena,  Charudatta,  sea  of  excellence.  14 

Viraka.  Well,  well,  Chandanaka!  Charudatta?  Vasantasena ? 

I know  them  perfectly,  as  well  as  I know  anything; 

But  I do  not  know  my  father  when  I ’m  serving  of  my  king.  15 

Ary  aka.  [To  himself !]  In  a former  existence  the  one  must  have 
been  my  enemy,  the  other  my  kinsman.  For  see! 

Their  business  is  the  same;  their  ways 
Unlike,  and  their  desire: 

Like  flames  that  gladden  wedding  days, 

And  flames  upon  the  pyre.  16 

Chandanaka.  You  are  a most  careful  captain  whom  the  king- 
trusts.  I am  holding  the  bullocks.  Make  your  inspection. 

Viraka.  You  too  are  a corporal  whom  the  king  trusts.  Make  the 
inspection  yourself. 

Chandanaka.  If  I make  the  inspection,  that ’s  just  the  same  as  if 
you  had  made  it? 

Viraka.  If  you  make  the  inspection,  that’s  just  the  same  as  if 
King  Palaka  had  made  it. 


P.  171.5] 


SWAPPING  THE  BULLOCK-CARTS 


101 


Chandanaka.  Lift  the  pole,  man!  [ Vardhamanaka  does  so.] 
Aryaka.  [To  himself !]  Are  the  policemen  about  to  inspect  me? 
And  I have  no  sword,  worse  luck ! But  at  least, 

Bold  Bhima’s  spirit  I will  show; 

My  arm  shall  be  my  sword. 

Better  a warrior’s  death  than  woe 

That  cells  and  chains  afford.  17 

But  the  time  to  use  force  has  not  yet  come.  [ Chandanaka  enters 
the  cart  and  looks  about.]  I seek  your  protection. 

Chandanaka.  [Speaking  in  Sanskrit.]  He  who  seeks  protection 
shall  be  safe. 

Aryaka.  Whene’er  he  fight,  that  man  will  suffer  hurts, 

Will  be  abandoned  of  his  friends  and  kin, 

Becomes  a mock  forever,  who  deserts 
One  seeking  aid;  ’t is  an  unpardoned  sin.  18 

Chandanaka.  What ! the  herdsman  Aryaka  ? Like  a bird  that  flees 
from  a hawk,  he  has  fallen  into  the  hand  of  the  fowler.  [Reflect- 
ing.] He  is  no  sinner,  this  man  who  seeks  my  protection  and  sits 
in  Charudatta’s  cart.  Besides,  he  is  the  friend  of  good  Sharvilaka, 
who  saved  my  life.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  the  king’s  orders. 
What  is  a man  to  do  in  a case  like  this  ? W ell,  what  must  be,  must 
be.  I promised  him  my  protection  just  now. 

He  who  gives  aid  to  frightened  men, 

And  joys  his  neighbor’s  ills  to  cure, 

If  he  must  die,  he  dies;  but  then, 

His  reputation  is  secure.  19 

[He  gets  down  uneasily.]  I saw  the  gentleman — [correcting  him- 
self] I mean,  the  lady  Vasantasena,  and  she  says  “Is  it  proper,  is 
it  gentlemanly,  when  I am  going  to  visit  Charudatta,  to  insult  me 
on  the  highway?” 

Viraka.  Chandanaka,  I have  my  suspicions. 

Chandanaka.  Suspicions?  How  so? 


102 


ACT  THE  SIXTH 


[103.2  S. 


Vir.  You  gurgled  in  your  craven  throat;  it  seems  a trifle  shady. 

You  said  “I  saw  the  gentleman,”  and  then  “I  saw  the  lady.” 
That ’s  why  I ’m  not  satisfied. 

Clmndanaka.  What’s  the  matter  with  you,  man?  We  southerners 
don’t  speak  plain.  We  know  a thousand  dialects  of  the  barbari- 
ans— the  Khashas,  the  Khattis,  the  Kadas,  the  Kadatthobilas,  the 
Karnatas,  the  Karnas,  the  Pravaranas,  the  Dravidas,  the  Cholas, 
the  Chinas,  the  Barbaras,  the  Kheras,  the  Khanas,  the  Mukhas,  the 
Madhughatas,  and  all  the  rest  of  ’em,  and  it  all  depends  on  the  way 
we  feel  whether  we  say  “he”  or  “she,”  “gentleman”  or  “lady.” 
Viraka.  Can’t  I have  a look,  too?  It’s  the  king’s  orders.  And  the 
king  trusts  me. 

Chandanaka.  I suppose  the  king  does  n’t  trust  me! 

Viraka.  Isn't  it  His  Majesty’s  command? 

Chandanaka.  [ Aside .]  If  people  knew  that  the  good  herdsman  es- 
caped in  Charudatta’s  cart,  then  the  king  would  make  Charudatta 
suffer  for  it.  What ’s  to  be  done?  [ Reflecting .]  I ’ll  stir  up  a quarrel 
the  way  they  do  down  in  the  Carnatic.  [Aloud!]  Well,  Viraka,  I 
made  one  inspection  myself — my  name  is  Chandanaka — and  you 
want  to  do  it  over  again.  Who  are  you  ? 

Viraka.  Confound  it!  Who  are  you,  anyway? 

Chandanaka.  An  honorable  and  highly  respectable  person,  and  you 
don’t  remember  your  own  family. 

Viraka.  [. Angrily .]  Confound  you!  What  is  my  family? 
Chandanaka.  Who  speaks  of  such  things? 

Viraka.  Speak! 

Chandanaka.  I think  I ’d  better  not. 

I know  your  family,  but  I won't  say ; 

’T  would  not  be  modest,  such  things  to  betray; 

What  good ’s  a rotten  apple  anyway?  21 

Viraka.  Speak,  speak!  [ Chandanaka  makes  a significant  gesture.] 
Confound  you!  What  does  that  mean? 


P.175.1]  SWAPPING  THE  BULLOCK-CARTS 


103 


Chand.  A broken  whetstone  in  one  hand — a thing 
That  looks  like  scissors  in  the  other  wing — 

To  trim  the  scrubby  beards  that  curl  and  cling, 

And  you — why,  you  ’re  a captain  of  the  king ! 22 

Vlraka.  Well,  Chandanaka,  you  highly  respectable  person,  you 
don’t  remember  your  own  family  either. 

Chandanaka.  Tell  me.  What  is  the  family  I belong  to,  I,  Chan- 
danaka, pure  as  the  moon? 

Vlraka.  Who  speaks  of  such  things? 

Chandanaka.  Speak,  speak!  [Vlraka  makes  a significant  gesture.] 
Confound  you ! What  does  that  mean  ? 

Vlraka.  Listen. 

Your  house  is  pure;  your  father  is  a drum, 

Your  mother  is  a kettledrum,  you  scum! 

Your  brother  is  a tambourine — turn,  turn! 

And  you — why,  you  ’re  a captain  of  the  king!  23 

Chandanaka.  [ Wrathfidly .]  I,  Chandanaka,  a tanner ! You  can  look 
at  the  cart. 

Vlraka.  You!  driver!  turn  the  cart  around.  I want  to  look  in. 
[Vardhamanaka  does  so.  Vlraka  starts  to  climb  in.  Chandanaka 
seizes  him  violently  by  the  hair , throws  him  down,  and  kicks  him.] 
Vlraka.  [Rising.  JVrathfiully.]  Confound  you ! I was  peaceably  go- 
ing about  the  king’s  business,  when  you  seized  me  violently  by  the 
hair  and  kicked  me.  So  listen!  If  I don’t  have  you  drawn  and 
quartered  in  the  middle  of  the  court-room,  my  name ’s  not  Vlraka. 
Chandanaka.  All  right.  Go  to  court  or  to  a hall  of  justice.  What 
do  I care  for  a puppy  like  you? 

Vlraka.  I will.  [Exit. 

Chandanaka.  [Looks  about  him.]  Go  on,  driver,  go  on!  If  anybody 
asks  you,  just  say  “The  cart  has  been  inspected  by  Chandanaka 
and  Vlraka.”  Mistress  Vasantasena,  let  me  give  you  a passport. 
[He  hands  Aryaka  a sword.] 


104 


ACT  THE  SIXTH 


[105.11  S. 


Ary  aka.  [Takes  it.  Joyfully  to  himself.  ] 

A sword,  a sword ! My  right  eye  twitches  fast.1 
Now  all  is  well,  and  I am  safe  at  last.  24 

Chandanaka.  Madam, 

As  I have  given  you  a passage  free. 

So  may  I live  within  your  memory. 

To  utter  this,  no  selfish  thoughts  could  move; 

Ah  no,  I speak  in  plenitude  of  love.  25 

Aryaka.  Chandanaka  is  rich  in  Arirtues  pure; 

My  friend  is  he — Fate  willed  it — true  and  tried. 

I 'll  not  forget  Chandanaka,  be  sure. 

What  time  the  oracle  is  justified.  26 

Chand.  May  Shiva,  Vishnu,  Brahma,  Three  in  One, 

Protect  thee,  and  the  Moon,  and  blessed  Sun; 

Slay  all  thy  foes,  as  mighty  Parvati 

Slew  Shumbha  and  Nishumbha — fearfully.  27 

[Exit  Vardhamanaka,  with  the  bullock-ca?'t.  Chandanaka  looks  to- 
ward the  back  of  the  staged]  Aha ! As  he  goes  away,  my  good  friend 
Sharvilaka  is  following  him.  Well,  I ’ve  made  an  enemy  of  Vlraka, 
the  chief  constable  and  the  king’s  favorite ; so  I think  I too  had 
better  be  following  him,  with  all  my  sons  and  brothers. 

[Exit. 

1 A good  omen,  in  the  ease  of  a man. 


ACT  THE  SEVENTH 


ARY  AKA’S  ESCAPE 

, r ..  [Enter  Charudatta  and  Maitreya.] 

Maitreya.  L J J 

HOW  beautiful  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda  is. 

Charudatta.  You  are  quite  right,  my  friend.  For  see! 

The  trees,  like  merchants,  show  their  wares; 

Each  several  tree  his  blossoms  bears, 

While  bees,  like  officers,  are  flitting, 

To  take  from  each  what  toll  is  fitting.  1 

Maitreya.  This  simple  stone  is  very  attractive.  Pray  be  seated. 

Charudatta.  [Seats  himself.']  How  Vardhamanaka  Ungers,  my  friend! 

Maitreya.  I told  Vardhamanaka  to  bring  Vasantasena  and  come 

as  quickly  as  he  could. 

Charudatta.  Why  then  does  he  linger? 

Is  he  delayed  by  some  slow-moving  load? 

Has  he  returned  with  broken  wheel  or  traces  ? 

Obstructions  bid  him  seek  another  road? 

His  bullocks,  or  himself,  choose  these  slow  paces?  2 

[Enter  Vardhamanaka  with  the  bullock-cart,  in  which  Aryaka  lies 
hidden.] 

Vardhamanaka.  Get  up,  bullocks,  get  up! 

Aryaka.  [Aside.] 

And  still  I fear  the  spies  that  serve  the  king; 

Escape  is  even  yet  a doubtful  thing, 

While  to  my  foot  these  cursed  fetters  cling. 

Some  good  man  ’t  is,  within  whose  cart  I lie, 

Like  cuckoo  chicks,  whose  heartless  mothers  fly, 

And  crows  must  rear  the  fledglings,  or  they  die.  3 

I have  come  a long  distance  from  the  city.  Shall  I get  out  of  the 


106 


ACT  THE  SEVENTH 


[108.3  S. 


cart  and  seek  a hiding-place  in  the  grove?  or  shall  I wait  to  see 
the  owner  of  the  cart?  On  second  thoughts,  I will  not  hide  my- 
self in  the  grove;  for  men  say  that  the  noble  Charudatta  is  ever 
helpful  to  them  that  seek  his  protection.  I will  not  go  until  I have 
seen  him  face  to  face. 

’T  will  bring  contentment  to  that  good  man’s  heart 
To  see  me  rescued  from  misfortune’s  sea. 

This  body,  in  its  suffering,  pain,  and  smart, 

Is  saved  through  his  sweet  magnanimity.  4 

Vardhamanaka.  Here  is  the  garden.  I ’ll  drive  in.  [He  does  so.] 
Maitreya ! 

Maitreya.  Good  news,  my  friend.  It  is  Vardhamanaka’s  voice. 
Vasantasena  must  have  come. 

Charudatta.  Good  news,  indeed. 

Maitreya.  You  son  of  a slave,  what  makes  you  so  late? 
Vardhamanaka.  Don’t  get  angry,  good  Maitreya.  I remembered 
that  I had  forgotten  the  cushion,  and  I had  to  go  back  for  it,  and 
that  is  why  I am  late. 

Charudatta.  Turn  the  cart  around,  Vardhamanaka.  Maitreya,  my 
friend,  help  Vasantasena  to  get  out. 

Maitreya.  Has  she  got  fetters  on  her  feet,  so  that  she  can’t  get 
out  by  herself?  [He  rises  and  lifts  the  curtain  of  the  cart.']  Why, 
this  isn’t  mistress  Vasantasena — this  is  Mister  Vasantasena. 
Charudatta.  A truce  to  your  jests,  my  friend.  Love  cannot  wrait. 
I will  help  her  to  get  out  myself.  [He  rises.] 

Ary  aka.  [Discovers  him.]  Ah,  the  owner  of  the  bullock-cart!  He 
is  attractive  not  only  to  the  ears  of  men,  but  also  to  their  eyes. 
Thank  heaven!  I am  safe. 

Charudatta.  [Enters  the  bullock-cart  and  discovers  Ary  aka.]  Who 
then  is  this? 

As  trunk  of  elephant  his  arms  are  long, 

His  chest  is  full,  his  shoulders  broad  and  strong, 


P.  180.14] 


ARYAKA’S  ESCAPE 


107 


His  great  eyes  restless-red;1 
Why  should  this  man  be  thus  enforced  to  fight — 

So  noble  he — with  such  ignoble  plight. 

His  foot  to  fetters  wed  ? 5 

Who  are  you,  sir? 

Aryaka.  I am  one  who  seeks  your  protection,  Aryaka,  by  birth  a 
herdsman. 

Charudatta.  Are  you  he  whom  King  Palaka  took  from  the  ham- 
let where  he  lived  and  thrust  into  prison  ? 

Aryaka.  The  same. 

CJiarudatta.  T is  fate  that  brings  you  to  my  sight ; 

May  I be  reft  of  heaven’s  light, 

Ere  I desert  you  in  your  hapless  plight.  6 

[. Aryaka  manifests  his  joy.] 

CJiarudatta.  Vardhamanaka,  remove  the  fetters  from  his  foot. 
VardJiamanaka.  Yes,  sir.  [He  does  so.]  Master,  the  fetters  are  re- 
moved. 

A ryaka.  But  you  have  bound  me  with  yet  stronger  fetters  of  love. 
Maitreya.  Now  you  may  put  on  the  fetters  yourself.  He  is  free 
anyway.  And  it ’s  time  for  us  to  be  going. 

CJiarudatta.  Peace!  For  shame! 

Aryaka.  Charudatta,  my  friend,  I entered  your  cart  somewhat 
unceremoniously.  I beg  your  pardon. 

CJiarudatta.  I feel  honored  that  you  should  use  no  ceremony  with 
me. 

Aryaka.  If  you  permit  it,  I now  desire  to  go. 

CJiarudatta.  Go  in  peace. 

Aryaka.  Thank  you.  I will  alight  from  the  cart. 

Charudatta.  No,  my  friend.  The  fetters  have  but  this  moment 
been  removed,  and  you  will  find  walking  difficult.  In  this  spot 

1 Lalladikshita  says  that  these  are  signs  of  royalty. 


108 


ACT  THE  SEVENTH 


[110.4  S. 


where  men  seek  pleasure,  a bullock-cart  will  excite  no  suspicion. 
Continue  your  journey  then  in  the  cart. 

Ary  aka.  I thank  you,  sir. 

Charud.  Seek  now  thy  kinsmen.  Happiness  be  thine! 

Aryaka.  Ah,  I have  found  thee,  blessed  kinsman  mine! 

Charud.  Remember  me,  when  thou  hast  cause  to  speak. 

Aryaka.  Thy  name,  and  not  mine  own,  my  words  shall  seek. 
Charud.  May  the  immortal  gods  protect  thy  ways ! 

Aryaka.  Thou  didst  protect  me,  in  most  perilous  days. 

Charud.  Nay,  it  was  fate  that  sweet  protection  lent. 

Aryaka.  But  thou  wast  chosen  as  fates  instrument.  7 

Charudatta.  King  Palaka  is  aroused,  and  protection  will  prove 
difficult.  You  must  depart  at  once. 

Aryaka.  Until  we  meet  again,  farewell.  [Exit. 

Charud.  From  royal  wrath  I now  have  much  to  fear; 

It  were  unwise  for  me  to  linger  here. 

Then  throw  the  fetters  in  the  well ; for  spies 

Serve  to  their  king  as  keen,  far-seeing  eyes.  8 

[His  left  eye  twitches.']  Maitreya,  my  friend,  I long  to  see  Yasanta- 
sena.  For  now,  because 

I have  not  seen  whom  I love  best, 

My  left  eye  twitches;  and  my  breast 
Is  causeless-anxious  and  distressed.  9 

Come,  let  us  go.  [He  walks  about.]  See!  a Buddhist  monk  ap- 
proaches, and  the  sight  bodes  ill.  [ Reflecting .]  Let  him  enter  by 
that  path,  while  we  depart  by  this.  [Exit. 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 

THE  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 
[Enter  a monk,  with  a wet  garment  in  his  hand.~\ 

Monk. 

YE  ignorant,  lay  by  a store  of  virtue ! 

Restrain  the  belly;  watch  eternally. 

Heeding  the  beat  of  contemplation’s1  drum. 

For  else  the  senses — fearful  thieves  they  be — 

Will  steal  away  all  virtue’s  hoarded  sum.  1 

And  further : I have  seen  that  all  things  are  transitory,  so  that  now 
I am  become  the  abode  of  virtues  alone. 

Who  slays  the  Five  Men,2  and  the  Female  Bane,3 
By  whom  protection  to  the  Town4  is  given, 

By  whom  the  Outcaste5  impotent  is  slain, 

He  cannot  fail  to  enter  into  heaven.  2 

Though  head  be  shorn  and  face  be  shorn, 

The  heart  unshorn,  why  should  man  shave  him? 

But  he  whose  inmost  heart  is  shorn 

Needs  not  the  shaven  head  to  save  him.  3 

I have  dyed  this  robe  of  mine  yellow.  And  now  I will  go  into  the 
garden  of  the  king’s  brother-in-law,  wash  it  in  the  pond,  and  go 
away  as  soon  as  I can.  [He  walks  about  and  washes  the  robe.~\ 

A voice  behind  the  scenes.  Shtop,  you  confounded  monk,  shtop ! 
Monk.  [Discovers  the  speaker.  Fearfully .]  Heaven  help  me!  Here 
is  the  king’s  brother-in-law,  Sansthanaka.  Just  because  one  monk 
committed  an  offense,  now,  wherever  he  sees  a monk,  whether  it 
is  the  same  one  or  not,  he  bores  a hole  in  his  nose  and  drives  him 
around  like  a bullock.  Where  shall  a defenseless  man  find  a de- 
fender? But  after  all,  the  blessed  Lord  Buddha  is  my  defender. 

1 An  allusion  to  the  practice  by  which  the  Buddhists  induced  a state  of  religious  ecstasy. 
2 The  five  senses.  3 Ignorance.  4 The  body.  5 The  conceit  of  individuality. 


110 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[119.20  S. 


[Enter  the  courtier,  carrying  a sword,  and  Sansthanaka.] 
Sansthanaka.  Shtop,  you  confounded  monk,  shtop!  I’ll  pound 
your  head  like  a red  radish1  at  a drinking  party.  [He  strikes  him.'] 
Courtier.  You  jackass,  you  should  not  strike  a monk  who  wears 
the  yellow  robes  of  renunciation.  Why  heed  him?  Look  rather 
upon  this  garden,  which  offers  itself  to  pleasure. 

To  creatures  else  forlorn,  the  forest  trees 
Do  works  of  mercy,  granting  joy  and  ease ; 

Like  a sinner’s  heart,  the  park  unguarded  lies, 

Like  some  new-founded  realm,  an  easy  prize.  4 

Monk.  Heaven  bless  you!  Be  merciful,  servant  of  the  Blessed 
One! 

Sansthanaka.  Did  you  hear  that,  shir?  He ’s  inshulting  me. 
Courtier.  What  does  he  say? 

Sansthanaka.  Shays  I’m  a shervant.  What  do  you  take  me  for? 
a barber? 

Courtier.  A servant  of  the  Blessed  One  he  calls  you,  and  this  is 
praise. 

Sansthanaka.  Praise  me  shome  more,  monk! 

Monk.  You  are  virtuous!  You  are  a brick! 

Sansthanaka.  Shee?  He  shays  I ’m  virtuous.  He  shays  I’ma  brick. 
What  do  you  think  I am?  a materialistic  philosopher?  or  a water- 
ing-trough ? or  a pot-maker  ? 2 

Courtier.  You  jackass,  he  praises  you  when  he  says  that  you  are 
virtuous,  that  you  are  a brick. 

Sansthanaka.  Well,  shir,  what  did  he  come  here  for? 

Monk.  To  wash  this  robe. 

Sansthanaka.  Confound  the  monk ! My  shishter’s  husband  gave  me 
the  finesht  garden  there  is,  the  garden  Pushpakaranda.  Dogs  and 
jackals  drink  the  water  in  thish  pond.  Now  I m an  arishtocrat,  I m 

1 Used  as  an  appetizer. 

2 The  elaborate  puns  of  this  passage  can  hardly  be  reproduced  in  a translation. 


P.  187.7] 


STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 


111 


a man,  and  I don't  even  take  a bath.  And  here  you  bring  your 
shtinking  clothes,  all  shtained  with  shtale  bean-porridge,  and  wash 
’em!  I think  one  good  shtroke  will  finish  you. 

Courtier . You  jackass,  I am  sure  he  has  not  long  been  a monk. 
Sansthanaka.  How  can  you  tell,  shir? 

Courtier.  It  does  n’t  take  much  to  tell  that.  See ! 

His  hair  is  newly  shorn;  the  brow  still  white; 

The  rough  cloak  has  not  yet  the  shoulder  scarred ; 

He  wears  it  awkwardly;  it  clings  not  tight; 

And  here  above,  the  fit  is  sadly  marred.  5 

3Ionk.  True,  servant  of  the  Blessed  One.  I have  been  a monk  but 
a short  time. 

Sansthanaka.  Then  why  haven’t  you  been  one  all  your  life?  [He 
beats  him. ] 

Monk.  Buddha  be  praised! 

Courtier.  Stop  beating  the  poor  fellow.  Leave  him  alone.  Let  him 

go- 

Sansthanaka.  Jusht  wait  a minute,  while  I take  counshel. 
Courtier.  With  whom? 

Sansthanaka.  With  my  own  heart. 

Courtier.  Poor  fellow ! Why  did  n’t  he  escape  ? 

Sansthanaka.  Blesshed  little  heart,  my  little  shon  and  mashter,  shall 
the  monk  go,  or  shall  the  monk  shtay?  [To  himself. ] Neither  go, 
nor  shtay.  [Aloud.']  Well,  shir,  I took  counshel  with  my  heart,  and 
my  heart  shays — 

Courtier.  Says  what? 

Sansthanaka.  He  shall  neither  go,  nor  shtay.  He  shall  neither 
breathe  up,  nor  breathe  down.  He  shall  fall  down  right  here  and 
die,  before  you  can  shay  “boo.” 

Monk.  Buddha  be  praised!  I throw  myself  upon  your  protection. 
Courtier.  Let  him  go. 


112 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[114.24  S. 


Sansthanaka.  Well,  on  one  condition. 

Courtier.  And  what  is  that? 

Sansthanaka.  He  musht  shling  mud  in,  without  making  the  water 
dirty.  Or  better  yet,  he  musht  make  the  water  into  a ball,  and 
shling  it  into  the  mud. 

Courtier.  What  incredible  folly ! 

The  patient  earth  is  burdened  by 
So  many  a fool,  so  many  a drone, 

Whose  thoughts  and  deeds  are  all  awry — 

These  trees  of  flesh,  these  forms  of  stone.  6 

[ The  monk  makes  faces  at  Sansthanaka .] 

Sansthanaka.  What  does  he  mean? 

Courtier.  He  praises  you. 

Sansthanaka.  Praise  me  shome  more!  Praise  me  again!  {The  monk 
does  so,  then  exit.'] 

Courtier.  See  how  beautiful  the  garden  is,  you  jackass. 

See  yonder  trees,  adorned  with  fruit  and  flowers, 

O’er  which  the  clinging  creepers  interlace; 

The  watchmen  guard  them  with  the  royal  powers; 

They  seem  like  men  whom  loving  wives  embrace.  7 
Sansthanaka.  A good  deshcription,  shir. 

The  ground  is  mottled  with  a lot  of  flowers ; 

The  blosshom  freight  bends  down  the  lofty  trees ; 

And,  hanging  from  the  leafy  tree-top  bowers, 

The  monkeys  bob,  like  breadfruit  in  the  breeze.  8 

Courtier.  Will  you  be  seated  on  this  stone  bench,  you  jackass? 
Sansthanaka.  I am  sheated.  [ They  seat  themselves.]  Do  you  know, 
shir,  I remember  that  Yasantasena  even  yet.  She  is  like  an  inshult. 
I can’t  get  her  out  of  my  mind. 

Courtier.  [Aside.]  He  remembers  her  even  after  such  a repulse. 
For  indeed, 


p.  190.16]  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 


113 


The  mean  man,  whom  a woman  spurns, 

But  loves  the  more; 

The  wise  man’s  passion  gentler  burns. 

Or  passes  o’er.  9 

Sansthanaka.  Shome  time  has  passhed,  shir,  shince  I told  my  sher- 
vant  Sthavaraka  to  take  the  bullock-cart  and  come  as  quick  as 
he  could.  And  even  yet  he  is  not  here.  I ’ve  been  hungry  a long 
time,  and  at  noon  a man  can’t  go  a-foot.  For  shee! 

The  shun  is  in  the  middle  of  the  shky, 

And  hard  to  look  at  as  an  angry  ape; 

Like  Gandhari,  whose  hundred  shons  did  die, 

The  earth  is  hard  dishtresshed  and  can’t  eshcape.  10 
Courtier.  True. 

The  cattle  all — their  cuds  let  fall — 

Lie  drowsing  in  the  shade ; 

In  heated  pool  their  lips  to  cool, 

Deer  throng  the  woodland  glade ; 

A prey  to  heat,  the  city  street 
Makes  wanderers  afraid; 

The  cart  must  shun  the  midday  sun. 

And  thus  has  been  delayed.  11 

Sansthancika.  Yesshir, 

Fasht  to  my  head  the  heated  shun-beam  clings; 

Birds,  flying  creatures,  alsho  winged  things 
Resht  in  the  branches  of  the  trees,  while  men, 

People,  and  pershons  shigh  and  shigh  again; 

At  home  they  tarry,  in  their  houses  shtay. 

To  bear  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day.  12 

Well,  shir,  that  shervant  is  n’t  here  yet.  I ’m  going  to  shing  shome- 
thing  to  passh  the  time.  [He  sings.]  There,  shir,  did  you  hear 
what  I shang? 

Courtier.  What  shall  I say?  Ah,  how  melodious! 


114 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[116.23  S. 


Sansthanaka.  Why  should  n't  it  be  malodorous  ? 

Of  nut-grass  and  cumin  I make  up  a pickle, 

Of  devil’s-dung,  ginger,  and  orris,  and  treacle; 

That’s  the  mixture  of  perfumes  I eagerly  eat: 

Why  should  n’t  my  voice  be  remarkably  shweet?  13 

Well,  shir,  I ’m  jusht  going  to  shing  again.  [He  does  so.]  There, 
shir,  did  you  hear  what  I shang? 

Courtier.  What  shall  I say?  Ah,  how  melodious! 

Sansthanaka.  Why  should  n't  it  be  malodorous  ? 

Of  the  flesh  of  the  cuckoo  I make  up  a chowder, 

With  devil’s-dung  added,  and  black  pepper  powder; 

With  oil  and  with  butter  I shprinkle  the  meat: 

Why  should  n’t  my  voice  be  remarkably  shweet?  14 
But  shir,  the  shervant  is  n’t  here  yet. 

Courtier.  Be  easy  in  your  mind.  He  will  be  here  presently. 

[Enter  Vasantasena  in  the  bullock-cart,  and  Sthavaraka.] 
Sthavaraka.  I ’m  frightened.  It  is  already  noon.  I hope  Sanstha- 
naka, the  king’s  brother-in-law,  will  not  be  angry.  I must  drive 
faster.  Get  up,  bullocks,  get  up! 

Vasantasena.  Alas!  That  is  not  Vardhamanaka’s  voice.  What  does 
it  mean?  I wonder  if  Charudatta  was  afraid  that  the  bullocks 
might  become  weary,  and  so  sent  another  man  with  another  cart. 
My  right  eye  twitches.  My  heart  is  all  a-tremble.  There  is  no  one 
in  sight.  Everything  seems  to  dance  before  my  eyes. 
Sansthanaka.  [Hearing  the  sound  of  wheels .]  The  cart  is  here,  shir. 
Courtier.  How  do  you  know? 

Sansthanaka.  Can’t  you  shee?  It  shqueaks  like  an  old  hog. 
Courtier.  [Perceives  the  cart.']  Quite  true.  It  is  here. 

Sansthanaka.  Sthavaraka,  my  little  shon,  my  shlave,  are  you  here? 
Sthavaraka.  Yes,  sir. 

Sansthanaka.  Is  the  cart  here? 


P.  194.9] 


STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 


115 


Sthavaraka.  Yes,  sir. 

Sansthanaka.  Are  the  bullocks  here? 

Sthavaraka.  Yes,  sir. 

Sansthanaka.  And  are  you  here? 

Sthavaraka.  [. Laughing .]  Yes,  master,  I am  here  too. 
Sansthanaka.  Then  drive  the  cart  in. 

Sthavaraka.  By  which  road  ? 

Sansthanaka.  Right  here,  where  the  wall  is  tumbling  down. 
Sthavaraka.  Oh,  master,  the  bullocks  will  be  killed.  The  cart  will 
go  to  pieces.  And  I,  your  servant,  shall  be  killed. 

Sansthanaka.  I ’m  the  king’s  brother-in-law,  man.  If  the  bullocks 
are  killed,  I ’ll  buy  shome  more.  If  the  cart  goes  to  pieces,  I ’ll 
have  another  one  made.  If  you  are  killed,  there  will  be  another 
driver. 

Sthavaraka.  Everything  will  be  replaced — except  me. 
Sansthanaka.  Let  the  whole  thing  go  to  pieces.  Drive  in  over  the 
wall. 

Sthavaraka.  Then  break,  cart,  break  with  your  driver.  There  will 
be  another  cart.  I must  go  and  present  myself  to  my  master.  [He 
drives  in.~\  What!  not  broken?  Master,  here  is  your  cart. 
Sansthanaka.  The  bullocks  not  shplit  in  two?  and  the  ropes  not 
killed?  and  you  too  not  killed? 

Sthavaraka.  No,  sir. 

Sansthanaka.  Come,  shir.  Let’s  look  at  the  cart.  You  are  my 
teacher,  shir,  my  very  besht  teacher.  You  are  a man  I reshpect, 
my  intimate  friend,  a man  I delight  to  honor.  Do  you  enter  the 
cart  firsht. 

Courtier.  Very  well.  [He  starts  to  do  so.] 

Sansthanaka.  Not  much!  Shtop!  Is  thish  your  father’s  cart,  that 
you  should  enter  it  firsht  ? I own  thish  cart.  I 'll  enter  it  firsht. 
Courtier.  I only  did  what  you  said. 


116 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[119.8  S. 


Sansthanaka.  Even  if  I do  shay  sho,  you  ought  to  be  polite  enough 
to  shay  “After  you,  mashter.” 

Courtier.  After  you,  then. 

Sansthanaka.  Now  I ’ll  enter.  Sthavaraka,  my  little  shon,  my 
shlave,  turn  the  cart  around. 

Sthavaraka.  [ Does  so.]  Enter,  master. 

Sansthanaka.  [. Enters  and  looks  about,  then  hastily  gets  out  in  ter- 
ror, and  Jails  on  the  courtiers  neck.]  Oh,  oh,  oh!  You’re  a dead 
man!  There’s  a witch,  or  a thief,  that’s  sitting  and  living  in  my 
bullock-cart.  If  it ’s  a witch,  we  ’ll  both  be  robbed.  If  it ’s  a thief, 
we  ’ll  both  be  eaten  alive. 

Courtier.  Don’t  be  frightened.  How  could  a witch  travel  in  a 
bullock-cart?  I hope  that  the  heat  of  the  midday  sun  has  not 
blinded  you,  so  that  you  became  the  victim  of  an  hallucination 
when  you  saw  the  shadow  of  Sthavaraka  with  the  smock  on  it. 
Sansthanaka.  Sthavaraka,  my  little  shon,  my  shlave,  are  you 
alive? 

Sthavaraka.  Yes,  sir. 

Sansthanaka.  But  shir,  there ’s  a woman  sitting  and  living  in  the 
bullock-cart.  Look  and  shee! 

Courtier.  A woman? 

Then  let  us  bow  our  heads  at  once  and  go, 

Like  steers  whose  eyes  the  falling  raindrops  daze; 

In  public  spots  my  dignity  I show; 

On  high-born  dames  I hesitate  to  gaze.  15 

Vasantasena.  [In  amazement.  Aside.]  Oh,  oh ! It  is  that  thorn  in 
my  eye,  the  king’s  brother-in-law.  Alas ! the  danger  is  great.  Poor 
woman!  My  coming  hither  proves  as  fruitless  as  the  sowing  of  a 
handful  of  seeds  on  salty  soil.  What  shall  I do  now  ? 
Sansthanaka.  Thish  old  shervant  is  afraid  and  he  wron’t  look  into 
the  cart.  Will  you  look  into  the  cart,  shir? 

Courtier.  I see  no  harm  in  that.  Yes,  I will  do  it. 


p.  198.12]  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 


117 


Sansthanaka.  Are  those  things  jackals  that  I shee  flying  into  the 
air,  and  are  those  things  crows  that  walk  on  all  fours?  While  the 
witch  is  chewing  him  with  her  eyes,  and  looking  at  him  with  her 
teeth,  I ’ll  make  my  eshcape. 

Courtier.  [Perceives  Vasantasena.  Sadly  to  himself.]  Is  it  possible? 
The  gazelle  follows  the  tiger.  Alas! 

Her  mate  is  lovely  as  the  autumn  moon, 

Who  waits  for  her  upon  the  sandy  dune ; 

And  yet  the  swan  will  leave  him?  and  will  go 
To  dance  attendance  on  a common  crow?  16 

[Aside  to  Vasantasena.]  Ah,  Vasantasena!  This  is  neither  right, 
nor  worthy  of  you. 

Your  pride  rejected  him  before, 

Yet  now  for  gold,  and  for  your  mother’s  will 
Vasantasena.  No!  [She  shakes  her  head.] 

Courtier. 

Your  nature  knows  your  pride  no  more; 

You  honor  him,  a common  woman  still.  17 

Did  I not  tell 1 you  to  “ serve  the  man  you  love,  and  him  you 
hate”? 

Vasantasena.  I made  a mistake  in  the  cart,  and  thus  I came 
hither.  I throw  myself  upon  your  protection. 

Courtier.  Do  not  fear.  Come,  I must  deceive  him.  [He  returns  to 
Sansthanaka.]  Jackass,  there  is  indeed  a witch  who  makes  her 
home  in  the  cart. 

Sansthanaka.  But  shir,  if  a witch  is  living  there,  why  are  n’t  you 
robbed?  And  if  it’s  a thief,  why  aren’t  you  eaten  alive? 

Courtier.  Why  try  to  determine  that?  But  if  we  should  go  back 
on  foot  through  the  gardens  until  we  came  to  the  city,  to  UjjayinI, 
what  harm  would  that  do  ? 

Sansthanaka.  And  if  we  did,  what  then? 

1 See  page  13. 


118 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[121.7  S. 


Courtier.  Then  we  should  have  some  exercise,  and  should  avoid 
tiring  the  bullocks. 

Sansthanaka.  All  right.  Sthavaraka,  my  shlave,  drive  on.  But  no! 
Shtop,  shtop!  I go  on  foot  before  gods  and  Brahmans?  Not  much! 
I 'll  go  in  my  cart,  sho  that  people  shall  shee  me  a long  way  off, 
and  shay  “There  he  goes,  our  mashter,  the  king’s  brother-in-law.” 
Courtier.  [Aside.]  It  is  hard  to  convert  poison  into  medicine.  So 
be  it,  then.  [Aloud.]  Jackass,  this  is  Yasantasena,  come  to  visit 
you. 

Vasantasena.  Heaven  forbid ! 

Sansthanaka.  [Gleefully.]  Oh,  oh!  To  visit  me,  an  arishtocrat,  a 
man,  a regular  Yasudeva? 

Courtier.  Yes. 

Sansthanaka.  This  is  an  unheard-of  piece  of  luck.  That  other  time 
I made  her  angry,  sho  now  I ’ll  fall  at  her  feet  and  beg  her  pardon. 
Courtier.  Capital! 

Sansthanaka.  I ’ll  fall  at  her  feet  myshelf.  [He  approaches  Vasanta- 
sena.] Little  mother,  mamma  dear,  lishten  to  my  prayer. 

I fold  my  hands  and  fall  before  thy  feet — 

Thine  eyes  are  large,  thy  teeth  are  clean  and  neat, 

Thy  finger-nails  are  ten — forgive  thy  shlave 
What,  love-tormented,  he  offended,  shweet.  18 

Vasantasena.  [Angrily.]  Leave  me ! Your  words  are  an  insult!  [She 
spurns  him  with  her  foot.] 

Sansthanaka.  [Wrathfully.] 

Thish  head  that  mother  and  that  mamma  kissed, 

That  never  bent  to  worship  god,  I wist, 

Upon  thish  head  she  dared  to  plant  her  feet, 

Like  jackals  on  the  carrion  they  meet.  19 

Sthavaraka,  you  shlave,  where  did  you  pick  her  up  ? 

Sthavaraka.  Master,  the  highway  was  blocked  by  villagers’  wagons. 
So  I stopped  my  cart  near  Charudatta’s  orchard,  and  got  out.  And 


p.  201.14]  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 


119 


while  I was  helping  a villager  with  his  wagon,  I suppose  she  mis- 
took this  cart  for  another,  and  climbed  in. 

Sansthanaka.  Oho!  she  mishtook  my  cart  for  another?  and  didn’t 
come  to  shee  me?  Get  out  of  my  cart,  get  out!  You  ’re  going  to 
visit  your  poor  merchant’s  shon,  are  you  ? Those  are  my  bullocks 
you  ’re  driving.  Get  out,  get  out,  you  shlave!  Get  out,  get  out! 
Vasantasena.  Truly,  you  honor  me  when  you  say  that  I came  to 
see  Charudatta.  Now  what  must  be,  must  be. 

Sansthanaka.  These  hands  of  mine,  ten-finger-naily, 

These  hands  sho  lotush-leafy. 

Are  itching-anxious,  girl,  to  dally 
With  you;  and  in  a jiffy 
I ’ll  drag  Your  Shweetness  by  the  hair 
From  the  cart  wherein  you  ride, 

As  did  Jatayu  Bali’s  fair. 

The  monkey  Bali’s  bride.  20 

Courtier.  So  virtuous  ladies  may  not  be 
Insulted  thus  despitefully; 

Nor  garden  creepers  may  not  be 
Robbed  of  their  leaves  so  cruelly.  21 

Stand  up,  man.  I will  help  her  to  alight.  Come,  Vasantasena!  [Va- 
santasena alights  and  stands  apart.\ 

Sansthanaka.  [Aside.~\  The  flame  of  wrath  was  kindled  when  she 
despised  my  proposition,  and  now  it  blazes  up  because  she  kicked 
me.  Sho  now  I ’ll  murder  her.  Good!  Thish  way.  [A loud.\  AYell, 
shir,  what  do  you  want? 

A cloak  with  fringes  hanging  down  and  all, 

Tied  with  a hundred  shtrings?  or  good  ragout, 

To  make  you  shmack  your  greedy  lips  and  call 
“Chuhoo,  chuhoo,  chukku,  chuhoo,  chuhooo”?  22 
Courtier.  Well? 

Sansthanaka.  Do  me  a favor. 


120 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[123.11  S. 


Courtier.  Certainly.  Anything,  unless  it  be  a sin. 

Sansthanaka.  There ’s  not  a shmell  of  a shin  in  it,  shir.  Not  a per- 
fume! 

Courtier.  Speak,  then. 

Sansthanaka.  Murder  Vasantasena. 

Courtier.  [ Stopping  his  ea?'s.~\ 

A tender  lady,  gem  of  this  our  city, 

A courtezan  whose  love  was  stainless  ever — 

If  I should  kill  her,  sinless,  without  pity, 

What  boat  would  bear  me  on  the  gloomy  river?  23 
Sansthanaka.  I ’ll  give  you  a boat.  And  beshides,  in  thish  deserted 
garden,  who’ll  shee  you  murdering  her? 

Courtier.  The  regions  ten,1  the  forest  gods,  the  sky, 

The  wind,  the  moon,  the  sun  whose  rays  are  light, 
Virtue,  my  conscience — these  I cannot  fly, 

Nor  earth,  that  witnesses  to  wrong  and  right.  24 
Sansthanaka.  Well  then,  put  your  cloak  over  her  and  murder  her. 
Courtier.  You  fool!  You  scoundrel! 

Sansthanaka.  The  old  hog  is  afraid  of  a shin.  Never  mind.  I ’ll  per- 
shuade  Sthavaraka,  my  shlave.  Sthavaraka,  my  little  shon,  my 
shlave,  I ’ll  give  you  golden  bracelets. 

Sthavaraka.  And  I ’ll  wear  them. 

Sansthanaka.  I ’ll  have  a golden  sheat  made  for  you. 

Sthavaraka.  And  I ’ll  sit  on  it. 

Sansthanaka.  I ’ll  give  you  all  my  leavings. 

Sthavaraka.  And  I ’ll  eat  them. 

Sansthanaka.  I ’ll  make  you  the  chief  of  all  my  shervants. 
Sthavaraka.  Master,  I ’ll  be  the  chief. 

Sansthanaka.  You  only  have  to  attend  to  what  I shay. 
Sthavaraka.  Master,  I will  do  anything,  unless  it  be  a sin. 


1 The  four  cardinal  points,  the  four  intermediate  points,  the  zenith,  and  the  nadir. 


121 


P.805.12]  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 

Sansthanaka.  There ’s  not  a shmell  of  a shin  in  it. 

Sthavaraka.  Then  speak,  master. 

Sansthanaka.  Murder  Vasantasena. 

Sthavaraka.  Oh,  master,  be  merciful!  Unworthy  as  I am,  I brought 
this  worthy  lady  hither,  because  she  mistook  this  bullock-cart  for 
another. 

Sansthanaka.  You  shlave,  ain’t  I your  mashter? 

Sthavaraka.  Master  of  my  body,  not  of  my  character.  Be  merciful, 
master,  be  merciful!  I am  afraid. 

Sansthanaka.  You  ’re  my  shlave.  Who  are  you  afraid  of? 
Sthavaraka.  Of  the  other  world,  master. 

Sansthanaka.  Who  is  thish  “other  world”? 

Sthavaraka.  Master,  it  is  a rewarder  of  righteousness  and  sin. 
Sansthanaka.  What  is  the  reward  of  righteoushness  ? 

Sthavaraka.  To  be  like  my  master,  with  plenty  of  golden  orna- 
ments. 

Sansthanaka.  What  is  the  reward  of  shin  ? 

Sthavaraka.  To  be  like  me,  eating  another  man’s  bread.  That  is 
why  I will  do  no  sin. 

Sansthanaka.  Sho  you  won’t  murder  her?  [He  heats  him  with  all 
his  might.'] 

Sthavaraka.  You  may  beat  me,  master.  You  may  kill  me,  master. 
I will  do  no  sin. 

A luckless,  lifelong  slave  am  I, 

A slave  I live,  a slave  I die; 

But  further  woe  I will  not  buy, 

I will  not,  will  not  sin.  25 

Vasantasena.  Sir,  I throw  myself  upon  your  protection. 

Courtier.  Pardon  him,  jackass!  Well  done,  Sthavaraka! 

Does  this  poor,  miserable  slave 
Seek  virtue’s  meed  beyond  the  grave? 


122 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[125.14  S. 


And  is  his  lord  indifferent? 

Then  why  are  not  such  creatures  sent 

To  instant  hell,  whose  sinful  store 

Grows  great,  who  know  not  virtue  more?  26 

And  again: 

Ah,  cruel,  cruel  is  our  fate, 

And  enters  through  the  straitest  gate ; 

Since  he  is  slave,  and  you  are  lord, 

Since  he  does  not  enjoy  your  hoard, 

Since  you  do  not  obey  his  word.  27 

Sansthanaka.  [ Aside.]  The  old  jackal  is  afraid  of  a shin,  and  the 
“lifelong  shlave''  is  afraid  of  the  other  world.  Who  am  I afraid  of, 
I,  the  king’s  brother-in-law,  an  arishtocrat,  a man?  [Aloud,]  Well, 
shervant,  you  “lifelong  shlave,”  you  can  go.  Go  to  your  room  and 
resht  and  keep  out  of  my  way. 

Sthavaraka.  Yes,  master.  [To  Vasantasena.]  Madam,  I have  no 
further  power.  [Exit. 

Sansthanaka.  [Girds  up  his  loins.]  Wait  a minute,  Vasantasena, 
wait  a minute.  I want  to  murder  you. 

Courtier.  You  will  kill  her  before  my  eyes?  [He  seizes  him  by  the 
throat.] 

Sansthanaka.  [Falls  to  the  ground.]  Shir,  you  ’re  murdering  your 
mashter.  [He  loses  consciousness,  but  recovers.] 

I always  fed  him  fat  with  meat. 

And  gave  him  butter  too,  to  eat; 

Now  for  the  friend  in  need  I search; 

Why  does  he  leave  me  in  the  lurch?  28 

[After  reflection.]  Good ! I have  an  idea.  The  old  jackal  gave  her 
a hint  by  shaking  his  head  at  her.  Sho  I ’ll  shend  him  away,  and 
then  I’ll  murder  Vasantasena.  That’s  the  idea.  [Aloud.]  Shir,  I 
was  bom  in  a noble  family  as  great  as  a wine-glass.  How  could  I 
do  that  shin  I shpoke  about?  I jusht  shaid  it  to  make  her  love  me. 


P.209.3]  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA  123 

Courtier.  Why  should  you  boast  of  this  your  noble  birth  ? 

’T  is  character  that  makes  the  man  of  worth ; 

But  thorns  and  weeds  grow  rank  in  fertile  earth.  29 
Sansthanaka.  She ’s  ashamed  to  confessh  her  love  when  you  ’re  here. 
Please  go.  My  shervant  Sthavaraka  has  gone  too  after  getting  a 
beating.  He  may  be  running  away.  Catch  him,  shir,  and  come  back 
with  him. 

Courtier.  [ Aside .] 

Vasantasena  is  too  proud  to  own, 

While  I am  near,  her  love  for  one  so  crude; 

So  now  I leave  her  here  with  him  alone; 

Love’s  confidences  long  for  solitude.  30 

[. Aloud .]  Very  well.  I go. 

Vasantasena.  [ Seizing  the  hem  of  his  garment.']  Did  I not  throw 
myself  upon  your  protection? 

Courtier.  Do  not  fear,  Vasantasena.  Jackass,  Vasantasena  is  a 
pledge,  committed  to  your  hand. 

Sansthanaka.  All  right.  Jusht  let  her  be  committed  to  my  hand. 
It ’s  a pledge  that  I ’ll  execute. 

Courtier.  Are  you  honest? 

Sansthanaka.  Honesht. 

Courtier.  [ Takes  a few  steps.]  No!  If  I go,  the  wretch  might  kill 
her.  I will  conceal  myself  for  a moment,  and  see  what  he  intends 
to  do.  [He  stands  apart.] 

Sansthanaka.  Good ! I ’ll  murder  her.  But  no ! Perhaps  thish  tricky 
trickshter,  thish  Brahman,  thish  old  jackal,  has  gone  and  hidden 
himshelf ; he  might  raise  a howl  like  the  jackal  he  is.  I ’ll  jusht  do 
thish  to  deceive  him.  [He  gathers  flowers  and  adorns  himself] 
Vasantasena,  my  love,  my  love ! Come ! 

Courtier.  Yes,  he  has  turned  lover.  Good!  I am  content.  I will 
go.  [Exit. 


124 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[127.12  S. 


Sansthanaka.  I ’ll  give  you  gold,  I ’ll  call  you  shweet; 

My  turbaned  head  adores  your  feet. 

Why  not  love  me,  my  clean-toothed  girl? 

Why  worship  such  a pauper  churl?  31 

Vasantasena.  How  can  you  ask?  [She  bows  her  head  and  recites 
the  following  verses.'] 

O base  and  vile ! O wretch ! What  more  ? 

Why  tempt  me  now  with  gold  and  power? 

The  honey-loving  bees  adore 

The  pure  and  stainless  lotus  flower.  32 

Though  poverty  may  strike  a good  man  low, 

Peculiar  honor  waits  upon  his  woe; 

And  t is  the  glory  of  a courtezan 

To  set  her  love  upon  an  honest  man.  33 

And  I,  who  have  loved  the  mango-tree,  I cannot  cling  to  the 
locust-tree. 

Sansthanaka.  Wench,  you  make  that  poor  little  Charudatta  into 
a mango-tree,  and  me  you  call  a locusht-tree,  not  even  an  acacia ! 
That  s the  way  you  abuse  me,  and  even  yet  you  remember  Cha- 
rudatta. 

Vasantasena.  Why  should  I not  remember  him  who  dwells  in  my 
heart? 

Sansthanaka.  Thish  very  minute  I ’m  going  to  shtrangle  “him 
who  dwells  in  your  heart,”  and  you  too.  Shtand  shtill,  you  poor- 
merchant-man’s  lover! 

Vasantasena.  Oh  speak,  oh  speak  again  these  words  that  do  me 
honor! 

Sansthanaka.  Jusht  let  poor  Charudatta — the  shon  of  a shlave — 
reshcue  you  now ! 

Vasantasena.  He  would  rescue  me,  if  he  saw  me. 

Sansthanaka.  Is  he  the  king  of  gods?  the  royal  ape? 

Shon  of  a nymph?  or  wears  a demon’s  shape? 


P.212.11]  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 


125 


The  kingly  deity  of  wind  and  rain? 

The  offshpring  of  the  Pandu-princes’  bane? 

A prophet?  or  a vulture  known  afar? 

A shtatesman?  or  a beetle?  or  a shtar?  34 

But  even  if  he  was,  he  could  n’t  reshcue  you. 

As  Sita  in  the  Bharata 

Was  killed  by  good  old  Chanakya, 

Sho  I intend  to  throttle  thee, 

As  did  Jatayu  Draupadi.  35 

[He  raises  his  arm  to  strike  her.] 

Vasantasena.  Mother!  where  are  you?  Oh,  Charudatta!  my  heart’s 
longing  is  unfulfilled,  and  now  I die!  I will  scream  for  help.  No! 
It  would  bring  shame  on  Vasantasena,  should  she  scream  for  help. 
Heaven  bless  Charudatta! 

Sansthanaka.  Does  the  wench  shpeak  that  rashcal’s  name  even 
yet?  [He  seizes  her  by  the  throat .]  Remember  him,  wench,  remem- 
ber him ! 

Vasantasena.  Heaven  bless  Charudatta! 

Sansthanaka.  Die,  wench ! [He  strangles  her.  Vasantasena  loses  con- 
sciousness, and  falls  motionless .] 

Sansthanaka.  [Gleefully.] 

Thish  bashketful  of  shin,  thish  wench, 

Thish  foul  abode  of  impudence — 

She  came  to  love,  she  shtayed  to  blench, 

For  Death’s  embrace  took  every  sense. 

But  why  boasht  I of  valorous  arms  and  shtout? 

She  shimply  died  because  her  breath  gave  out. 

Like  Sita  in  the  Bharata,  she  lies. 

Ah,  mother  mine!  how  prettily  she  dies.  36 

She  would  not  love  me,  though  I loved  the  wench ; 

I shaw  the  empty  garden,  set  the  shnare, 


126 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[129.4  S. 


And  frightened  her,  and  made  the  poor  girl  blench. 

My  brother!  Oh,  my  father!  Thisli  is  where 
You  misshed  the  shight  of  heroism  shtout; 

Your  brother  and  your  shon  here  blosshomed  out 
Into  a man;  like  Mother  DraupadT, 

You  were  not  there,  my  bravery  to  shee.  37 

Good!  The  old  jackal  will  be  here  in  a minute.  I ’ll  shtep  ashide 
and  wait.  [ He  does  so.]  [ Enter  the  courtier,  with  Sthavaraka.] 

Courtie?'.  I have  persuaded  the  servant  Sthavaraka  to  come  back, 
and  now  I will  look  for  the  jackass.  [He  walks  about  and  looks 
around  him.']  But  see ! A tree  has  fallen  by  the  roadside,  and  killed 
a woman  in  its  fall.  O cruel!  How  couldst  thou  do  this  deed  of 
shame?  And  when  I see  that  a woman  was  slain  by  thy  fatal  fall, 
I too  am  felled  to  the  earth.  Truly,  my  heart’s  fear  for  A^asanta- 
sena  was  an  evil  omen.  Oh,  heaven  grant  that  all  may  yet  be  well! 
[He  approaches  Sansthanaka.]  Jackass,  I have  persuaded  your  ser- 
vant Sthavaraka  to  return. 

Sansthanaka.  How  do  you  do,  shir?  Sthavaraka,  my  little  shon, 
my  shlave,  how  do  you  do  ? 

Sthavaraka.  Well,  thank  you. 

Courtier.  Give  me  my  pledge. 

Sansthanaka.  What  pledge? 

Courtier.  Vasantasena. 

Sansthanaka.  She ’s  gone. 

Courtier.  Where  ? 

Sansthanaka.  Right  after  you. 

Courtier.  [Doubtfully.]  No,  she  did  not  go  in  that  direction. 
Sansthanaka.  In  what  direction  did  you  go? 

Courtier.  Toward  the  east. 

Sansthanaka.  Well,  she  went  shouth.1 
Courtier.  So  did  I. 

1 The  region  of  Yama,  god  of  death. 


127 


P.216.2]  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 

Sanst kanaka.  She  went  north. 

Courtier.  This  is  nonsense.  My  heart  is  not  satisfied.  Speak  the 
truth. 

Sansthanaka.  I shwear  by  your  head,  shir,  and  my  own  feet.  You 
may  be  easy  in  your  heart.  I murdered  her. 

Courtier.  [Despairingly. ] You  really  killed  her? 

Sansthanaka.  If  you  don’t  believe  my  words,  then  shee  the  firsht 
heroic  deed  of  Sansthanaka,  the  king’s  brother-in-law.  [He  jioints 
out  the  body. ] 

Courtier.  Alas!  Ah,  woe  is  me!  [He falls  in  a swoon.] 
Sansthanaka.  Hee,  hee!  The  gentleman  is  calm  enough  now! 
Sthavaraka.  Oh,  sir!  Come  to  yourself!  I am  the  first  murderer, 
for  I brought  the  bullock-cart  hither  without  looking  into  it. 
Courtier.  [Comes  to  himself.  Mournfully.']  Alas,  Yasantasena! 

The  stream  of  courtesy  is  dried  away, 

And  happiness  to  her  own  land  doth  flee. 

Sweet  gem  of  gems,  that  knew  love’s  gentle  play, 

Love’s  mart  and  beauty’s!  Joy  of  men  like  me! 

Thy  mirth-shored  stream,  that  kind  and  healing  river — 
Alas!  is  perished,  lost,  and  gone  forever!  38 

[Tearfully.]  Ah,  woe  is  me! 

What  sin  is  yet  to  come,  or  woe, 

Now  thou  hast  done  this  deed  of  hate? 

Like  sin’s  foul  self,  hast  thou  laid  low 

The  sinless  goddess  of  our  state.  39 

[Aside.]  Ah!  Perhaps  the  wretch  means  to  lay  this  sin  to  my 
charge.  I must  go  hence.  [He  walks  about.  Sansthanaka  approaches 
and  holds  him  back.]  Scoundrel!  Touch  me  not.  I have  done  with 
you.  I go. 

Sansthanaka.  Aha!  Firsht  you  murder  Yasantasena,  then  you 
abuse  me,  and  now  where  will  you  run  to  ? And  sho  a man  like  me 
has  n’t  anybody  to  protect  him. 


128 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[131.8  S. 


Courtier.  Y ou  are  an  accursed  scoundrel ! 

Sansth.  1 11  give  you  countless  wealth,  a piece  of  gold, 

A copper,  and  a cap,  to  have  and  hold. 

And  sho  the  fame  of  thish  great  deed  shall  be 
A common  property,  and  shan’t  touch  me.  40 

Courtier.  A curse  upon  you!  Yours,  and  yours  only,  be  the  deed. 
Sthavarcika.  Heaven  avert  the  omen!  [Sansthanaka  bursts  out 
laughing.'] 

Courtier.  Be  enmity  between  us ! Cease  your  mirth ! 

Damned  be  a friendship  that  so  shames  my  worth! 
Never  may  I set  eyes  on  one  so  low! 

I fling  you  off,  an  unstrung,  broken  bow.  41 

Sansthanaka.  Don’t  be  angry.  Come,  let ’s  go  and  play  in  the  pond. 
Courtier.  Unstained  my  life,  and  yet  it  seems  to  me 

Your  friendship  stains,  and  mocks  my  sinlessness. 
You  woman-murderer!  How  could  I be 
A friend  to  one  whom  women  ever  see 

With  eyes  half-closed  in  apprehension’s  stress  ? 42 

[Mournfully.]  Vasantasena, 

When  thou,  sweet  maid,  art  born  again, 

Be  not  a courtezan  reborn, 

But  in  a house  which  sinless  men, 

And  virtuous,  and  good,  adorn.  43 

Sansthanaka.  Firsht  you  murder  Vasantasena  in  my  old  garden 
Pushpakaranda,  and  now  where  will  you  run  to?  Come,  defend 
yourshelf  in  court  before  my  shishter’s  husband!  [He  holds  him, 
back.] 

Courtier.  Enough,  you  accursed  scoundrel!  [He  draws  his  sword.] 
Sansthanaka.  [Recoiling  in  terror.]  Sheared,  are  you?  Go  along, 
then. 

Courtier.  [Aside.]  It  would  be  folly  to  remain  here.  Well,  I will 
go  and  join  myself  to  Sharvilaka,  Chandanaka,  and  the  rest.  [Exit. 


P.  219.5] 


STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 


129 


Sansthanaka.  Go  to  hell.  Well,  my  little  shon  Sthavaraka,  what 
kind  of  a thing  is  thish  that  I ’ve  done? 

Sthavaraka.  Master,  you  have  committed  a terrible  crime. 
Sansthanaka.  Shlave!  What  do  you  mean  by  talking  about  a crime? 
Well,  I ’ll  do  it  thish  way.  [He  takes  various  ornaments  from  his 
person. ] Take  these  gems.  I give  ’em  to  you.  Whenever  I want  to 
wear  them,  I ’ll  take  them  back  again,  but  the  resht  of  the  time 
they  are  yours. 

Sthavaraka.  They  should  be  worn  only  by  my  master.  What  have 
I to  do  with  such  things? 

Sansthanaka.  Go  along!  Take  these  bullocks,  and  wait  in  the  tower 
of  my  palace  until  I come. 

Sthavaraka.  Yes,  master.  [Exit. 

Sansthanaka.  The  gentleman  has  made  himshelf  invisible.  He 
wanted  to  save  himshelf.  And  the  shlave  I ’ll  put  in  irons  in  the  pal- 
ace tower,  and  keep  him  there.  And  sho  the  shecret  will  be  shafe. 
I ’ll  go  along,  but  firsht  I ’ll  take  a look  at  her.  Is  she  dead,  or  shall 
I murder  her  again?  [He  looks  at  Easantasena.]  Dead  as  a door- 
nail! Good!  I ’ll  cover  her  with  thish  cloak.  No,  it  has  my  name 
on  it.  Shome  honesht  man  might  recognize  it.  Well,  here  are  shome 
dry  leaves  that  the  wind  has  blown  into  a heap.  I ’ll  cover  her 
with  them.  [He  does  so,  then  pauses  to  reflect.']  Good ! I ’ll  do  it 
thish  way.  I ’ll  go  to  court  at  once,  and  there  I ’ll  lodge  a complaint. 
I ’ll  shay  that  the  merchant  Charudatta  enticed  Yasantasena  into 
my  old  garden  Pushpakaranda,  and  killed  her  for  her  money. 

Yesh,  Charudatta  musht  be  shlaughtered  now, 

And  I ’ll  invent  the  plan,  forgetting  pity; 

The  shacrificing  of  a sinless  cow 

Is  cruel  in  the  kindesht-hearted  city.  44 

Now  I ’m  ready  to  go.  [He  starts  to  go  away,  but  perceives  some- 
thing that  frightens  him.]  Goodnessh  gracioush  me!  Wherever  I 
go,  thish  damned  monk  comes  with  his  yellow  robes.  I bored  a hole 


130 


ACT  THE  EIGHTH 


[133.8  S. 


in  his  nose  once  and  drove  him  around,  and  he  hates  me.  Perhaps 
he  ’ll  shee  me,  and  will  tell  people  that  I murdered  her.  How  shall 
I eshcape?  [He  looks  about. ] Aha!  I ’ll  jump  over  the  wall  where 
it  is  half  fallen  down,  and  eshcape  that  way. 

I run,  I run,  I go, 

In  heaven,  on  earth  below, 

In  hell,  and  in  Ceylon, 

Hanumat’s  peaks  upon — 

Like  Indra’s  self,  I go.  [Exit.']  45 

[Enter  hurriedly  the  Buddhist  monk,  ex-shampooer.] 

Monk.  I ’ve  washed  these  rags  of  mine.  Shall  I let  them  dry  on  a 
branch  ? no,  the  monkeys  would  steal  them.  On  the  ground  ? the 
dust  would  make  them  dirty  again.  Well  then,  where  shall  I spread 
them  out  to  dry?  [He  looks  about.]  Ah,  here  is  a pile  of  dry  leaves 
which  the  wind  has  blown  into  a heap.  I ’ll  spread  them  out  on 
that.  [He  does  so.]  Buddha  be  praised!  [He  sits  down.]  Now  I will 
repeat  a hymn  of  the  faith. 

Who  slays  the  Five  Men,  and  the  Female  Bane, 

By  whom  protection  to  the  Town  is  given, 

By  whom  the  Outcaste  impotent  is  slain. 

He  cannot  fail  to  enter  into  heaven.  (2) 

After  all,  what  have  I to  do  with  heaven,  before  I have  paid  my 
debt  to  Vasantasena,  my  sister  in  Buddha?  She  bought  my  free- 
dom for  ten  gold-pieces  from  the  gamblers,  and  since  that  day  I 
regard  myself  as  her  property.  [He  looks  about.]  What  was  that? 
a sigh  that  arose  from  the  leaves  ? It  cannot  be. 

The  heated  breezes  heat  the  leaves, 

The  wetted  garment  wets  the  leaves, 

And  so,  I guess,  the  scattered  leaves 
Curl  up  like  any  other  leaves.  46 

[Vasantasena  begins  to  recover  consciousness,  and  stretches  out  her 
hand.] 


P.222.12]  STRANGLING  OF  VASANTASENA 


131 


Monk.  Ah,  there  appears  a woman’s  hand,  adorned  with  beautiful 
gems.  What!  a second  hand?  [He  examines  it  with  the  greatest 
care.]  It  seems  to  me,  I recognize  this  hand.  Yes,  there  is  no  doubt 
about  it.  Surely,  this  is  the  hand  that  saved  me.  But  I must  see  for 
myself.  [He  uncovers  the  body,  looks  at  it,  and  recognizes  it.]  It  is 
my  sister  in  Buddha.  [Vasantasena  pants  for  water.]  Ah,  she  seeks 
water,  and  the  pond  is  far  away.  What  shall  I do?  An  idea!  I will 
hold  this  robe  over  her  and  let  it  drip  upon  her.  [He  does  so.  Va- 
santasena recovers  consciousness,  and  raises  herself.  The  monk  fans 
her  with  his  garment.] 

Vasantasena.  Who  are  you,  sir? 

Monk.  Has  my  sister  in  Buddha  forgotten  him  whose  freedom 
she  bought  for  ten  gold-pieces? 

Vasantasena.  I seem  to  remember,  but  not  just  as  you  say.  It 
were  better  that  I had  slept  never  to  waken. 

Monk.  What  happened  here,  sister  in  Buddha? 

Vasantasena.  [Despairingly.]  Nothing  but  what  is  fitting — for  a 
courtezan. 

Monk.  Sister  in  Buddha,  support  yourself  by  this  creeper1  that 
clings  to  the  tree,  and  rise  to  your  feet.  [He  bends  down  the  creeper. 
Vasantasena  takes  it  in  her  hand,  and  rises.] 

Monk.  In  yonder  monastery  dwells  one  who  is  my  sister  in  the 
faith.  There  shall  my  sister  in  Buddha  be  restored  before  she  re- 
turns home.  You  must  walk  very  slowly,  sister.  [He  walks  about 
and  looks  around  him.]  Make  way,  good  people,  make  way ! This  is 
a young  lady,  and  I am  a monk,  yet  my  conduct  is  above  reproach. 

The  man  whose  hands,  whose  lips  are  free  from  greed, 
Who  curbs  his  senses,  he  is  man  indeed. 

He  little  recks,  if  kingdoms  fall  or  stand ; 

For  heaven  is  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  47 

[Exeunt. 

1 A monk  may  not  touch  a woman. 


ACT  THE  NINTH 
THE  TRIAL 


Beadle. 


[Enter  a beadle.] 


HE  magistrates  said  to  me  “ Come,  beadle,  go  to  the  court- 


room, and  make  ready  the  seats.”  So  now  I am  on  my  way 
to  set  the  court-room  in  order.  [He  walks  about  and  looks  around 
him.']  Here  is  the  court-room.  I will  enter.  [He  enters , sweeps,  and 
puts  a seat  in  its  place.]  There!  I have  tidied  up  the  court-room 
and  put  the  seats  in  readiness,  and  now  I will  go  and  tell  the  ma- 
gistrates. [He  walks  about  and  looks  around  him.]  But  see!  Here 
comes  that  arrant  knave,  the  king’s  brother-in-law.  I will  go  away 
without  attracting  his  attention.  [He  stands  apart.  Enter  San- 
sthanaka,  in  gorgeous  raiment.] 

Sansth.  I bathed  where  water  runs  and  flows  and  purls; 

I shat  within  a garden,  park,  and  grove 
With  women,  and  with  females,  and  with  girls, 


My  hair  is  shometimes  done  up  tight,  you  shee; 

In  locks,  or  curls,  it  hangs  my  forehead  o’er ; 
Shometimes ’t  is  matted,  shometimes  hanging  free ; 

And  then  again,  I wear  a pompadour. 

I am  a wonder,  I ’m  a wondrous  thing, 

And  the  husband  of  my  shishter  is  the  king.  2 

And  beshides,  I ’ve  found  a big  hole,  like  a worm  that  has  crawled 
into  the  knot  of  a lotush-root,  and  is  looking  for  a hole  to  creep 
out  at.  Now  who  was  I going  to  accuse  of  thish  wicked  deed?  [He 
recalls  something.]  Oh,  yesh ! I remember.  I was  going  to  accuse 
poor  Charudatta  of  thish  wicked  deed.  Beshides,  he ’s  poor.  They  ’ll 
believe  anything  about  him.  Good ! I ’ll  go  to  the  court-room  and 
lodge  a public  complaint  against  Charudatta,  how  he  shtrangled 


Whose  lovely  limbs  with  grace  angelic  move. 


1 


P.  226.10] 


THE  TRIAL 


133 


Vasantasena  and  murdered  her.  Sho  now  I ’m  on  my  way  to  the 
court-room.  [He  walks  about  and  looks  around  him.]  Here  is  the 
court-room.  I ’ll  go  in.  [He  enters  and  looks  about.]  Well,  here  are 
the  sheats,  all  arranged.  While  I ’m  waiting  for  the  magistrates, 
I 'll  jusht  sit  down  a minute  on  the  grass.  [He  does  so.] 

Beadle.  [Walks  about  in  another  direction,  and  looks  before  him.] 
Here  come  the  magistrates.  I will  go  to  them.  [He  does  so.] 
[Enter  the  judge,  accompanied  by  a gild-warden,  a clerk,  and  others.] 
Judge.  Gild-warden  and  clerk! 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  We  await  your  bidding. 

Judge.  A trial  depends  to  such  an  extent  upon  others  that  the  task 
of  the  magistrates — the  reading  of  another’s  thoughts — is  most 
difficult. 

Men  often  speak  of  deeds  that  no  man  saw, 

Matters  beyond  the  province  of  the  law; 

Passion  so  rules  the  parties  that  their  lies 
Hide  their  offenses  from  judicial  eyes; 

This  side  and  that  exaggerate  a thing, 

Until  at  last  it  implicates  the  king; 

To  sum  it  up:  false  blame  is  easy  won, 

A true  judge  little  praised,  or  praised  by  none.  3 
And  again: 

Men  often  point  to  sins  that  no  man  saw, 

And  in  their  anger  scorn  the  patient  law; 

In  court-rooms  even  the  righteous  with  their  lies 
Hide  their  offenses  from  judicial  eyes ; 

And  those  who  did  the  deed  are  lost  to  view, 

Who  sinned  with  plaintiff  and  defendant  too; 

To  sum  it  up:  false  blame  is  easy  won, 

A true  judge  little  praised,  or  praised  by  none.  4 
For  the  judge  must  be 

Learned,  and  skilled  in  tracing  fraud’s  sly  path, 

And  eloquent,  insensible  to  wrath; 


134 


ACT  THE  NINTH 


[137.24  S. 


To  friend,  foe,  kinsman  showing  equal  grace, 

Reserving  judgment  till  he  know  the  case; 

Untouched  by  avarice,  in  virtue  sound, 

The  weak  he  must  defend,  the  knave  confound ; 

An  open  door  to  truth,  his  heart  must  cling 
To  others’  interests,  yet  shun  each  thing 
That  might  awake  the  anger  of  the  king.  5 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  And  do  men  speak  of  defects  in  your 
virtue?  If  so,  then  they  speak  of  darkness  in  the  moonlight. 
Judge.  My  good  beadle,  conduct  me  to  the  court-room. 

Beadle.  Follow  me,  Your  Honor.  [ They  walk  about.']  Here  is  the 
court-room.  May  the  magistrates  be  pleased  to  enter.  [ All  enter.] 
Judge.  My  good  beadle,  do  you  go  outside  and  learn  who  desires 
to  present  a case. 

Beadle.  Yes,  sir.  [He  goes  out.]  Gentlemen,  the  magistrates  ask  if 
there  is  any  here  who  desires  to  present  a case. 

Sansthanaka.  [Gleefully.]  The  magistrates  are  here.  [He  struts 
about.]  I desire  to  present  a cashe,  I,  an  arishtocrat,  a man,  a Va- 
sudeva,  the  royal  brother-in-law,  the  brother-in-law  of  the  king. 
Beadle.  [In  alarm.]  Goodness!  The  king’s  brother-in-law  is  the  first 
who  desires  to  present  a case.  Well ! Wait  a moment,  sir.  I will  in- 
form the  magistrates  at  once.  [He  approaches  the  magistrates.]  Gen- 
tlemen, here  is  the  king’s  brother-in-law  who  has  come  to  court, 
desiring  to  present  a case. 

Judge.  What ! the  king’s  brother-in-law  is  the  first  who  desires  to 
present  a case?  Like  an  eclipse  at  sunrise,  this  betokens  the  ruin 
of  some  great  man.  Beadle,  the  court  will  doubtless  be  very  busy 
to-day.  Go  forth,  my  good  man,  and  say  “Leave  us  for  to-day. 
Your  suit  cannot  be  considered.” 

Beadle.  Yes,  Your  Honor.  [He  goes  out , and  approaches  San- 
sthanaka.] Sir,  the  magistrates  send  word  that  you  are  to  leave 
them  for  to-day;  that  your  suit  cannot  be  considered. 


P.  229.15] 


THE  TRIAL 


135 


Sansthanaka.  [ Wrathfully.]  Confound  it!  Why  can’t  my  shuit  be 
conshidered?  If  it  isn’t  conshidered,  then  I ’ll  tell  my  brother-in- 
law,  King  Palaka,  my  shishter’s  husband,  and  I ’ll  tell  my  shishter 
and  my  mother  too,  and  I ’ll  have  thish  judge  removed,  and  an- 
other judge  appointed.  [He  starts  to  go  away.'] 

Beadle.  Oh,  sir!  Brother-in-law  of  the  king!  Wait  a moment.  I 
will  inform  the  magistrates  at  once.  [He  returns  to  the  judge.]  The 
brother-in-law  of  the  king  is  angry,  and  says — [He  repeats  San- 
sthanaka's  words.] 

Judge.  This  fool  might  do  anything.  My  good  man,  tell  him  to 
come  hither,  that  his  suit  will  be  considered. 

Beadle.  [Approaching  Sansthanaka.]  Sir,  the  magistrates  send 
word  that  you  are  to  come  in,  that  your  suit  will  be  considered. 
Pray  enter,  sir. 

Sansthanaka.  Firsht  they  shay  it  won’t  be  conshidered,  then  they 
shay  it  will  be  conshidered.  The  magishtrates  are  sheared.  What- 
ever I shay,  I ’ll  make  ’em  believe  it.  Good ! I ’ll  enter.  [He  enters 
and  approaches  the  magistrates.]  I am  feeling  very  well,  thank  you. 
Whether  you  feel  well  or  not — that  depends  on  me. 

Judge.  [Aside.]  Well,  well!  We  seem  to  have  a highly  cultivated 
plaintiff.  [Aloud.]  Pray  be  seated. 

Sansthanaka.  Well!  Thish  floor  belongs  to  me.  I ’ll  sit  down  wher- 
ever I like.  [To  the  gild-warden.]  I’ll  sit  here.  [To  the  beadle.] 
Why  should  n’t  I sit  here?  [He  lays  his  hand  on  the  judge's  head.] 
I ’ll  sit  here.  [He  sits  down  on  the  floor.] 

Judge.  You  desire  to  present  a case? 

Sansthanaka.  Of  courshe. 

Judge.  Then  state  the  case. 

Sansthanaka.  I ’ll  whishper  it.  I was  born  in  the  great  family  of 
a man  as  glorioush  as  a wine-glass. 

My  father’s  father  of  the  king — in  law; 

The  king,  he  is  my  daddy’s  son-in-law; 


136 


ACT  THE  NINTH 


[140. 1 S. 


And  I am  brother  to  the  king — in  law; 

And  the  husband  of  my  shishter  is  the  king.  6 

Judge.  All  this  we  know. 

Why  should  you  boast  of  this  your  noble  birth  ? 

T is  character  that  makes  the  man  of  worth ; 

But  thorns  and  weeds  grow  rank  in  fertile  earth.  7 

State  your  case. 

Sansthanaka.  I will,  but  even  if  I was  guilty,  he  would  n’t  do 
anything  to  me.  Well,  my  shishter’s  husband  liked  me,  and  gave 
me  the  besht  garden  there  is,  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda,  to 
play  in  and  look  after.  And  there  I go  every  day  to  look  at  it,  to 
keep  it  dry,  to  keep  it  clean,  to  keep  it  blosshoming,  to  keep  it 
trimmed.  But  fate  decreed  that  I shaw — or  rather,  I didn’t  shee 
— the  proshtrate  body  of  a woman. 

Judge.  Ho  you  know  who  the  unfortunate  woman  was? 
Sansthanaka.  Hello,  magishtrates ! Why  shouldn’t  I know?  A 
woman  like  that!  the  pearl  of  the  city!  adorned  with  a hundred 
golden  ornaments!  Shomebody’s  unworthy  shon  enticed  her  into 
the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda  when  it  was  empty,  and  for  a 
mere  trifle- — for  her  money! — shtrangled  Vasantasena  and  killed 
her.  But  I did  n’t — [He  breaks  off,  and  puts  his  hand  over  his 
mouth.] 

Judge.  What  carelessness  on  the  part  of  the  city  police!  Gild- 
warden  and  clerk,  write  down  the  words  “I  didn’t,”  as  the  first 
article  in  the  case. 

Clerk.  Yes,  sir.  [He  does  so.]  Sir,  it  is  written. 

Sansthanaka.  [Aside.]  Goodnessh!  Now  I ’ve  ruined  myshelf,  like 
a man  that  shwallows  a cake  of  rice  and  milk  in  a hurry.  Well, 
I ’ll  get  out  of  it  thish  way.  [Aloud.]  Well,  well,  magishtrates!  I 
was  jusht  remarking  that  I didn’t  shee  it  happen.  What  are  you 
making  thish  hullabaloo  about?  [He  wipes  out  the  written  words 
with  his  foot.] 


P.  233.3] 


THE  TRIAL 


137 


Judge.  How  do  you  know  that  she  was  strangled — and  for  her 
money  ? 

Sansthanaka.  Hello!  Why  shouldn’t  I think  sho,  when  her  neck 
was  shwollen  and  bare,  and  the  places  where  you  wear  jewels 
did  n’t  have  any  gold  on  them? 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  That  seems  plausible. 

Sansthanaka.  [ Aside .]  Thank  heaven!  I breathe  again.  Hooray! 
Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  Upon  whom  does  the  conduct  of  this 
case  depend? 

Judge.  The  case  has  a twofold  aspect. 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  How  so? 

Judge.  We  have  to  consider  the  allegations,  then  the  facts.  Now 
the  investigation  of  the  allegations  depends  upon  plaintiff  and  de- 
fendant. But  the  investigation  of  the  facts  must  be  carried  out  by 
the  wisdom  of  the  judge. 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  Then  the  conduct  of  the  case  depends 
upon  the  presence  of  Vasantasena’s  mother? 

Judge.  Precisely.  My  good  beadle,  summon  Vasantasena’s  mother, 
without,  however,  giving  her  cause  for  anxiety. 

Beadle.  Yes,  Your  Honor.  [He  goes  out,  and  returns  with  the 
mother  of  the  courtezan.']  Follow  me,  madam. 

Mother.  My  daughter  went  to  the  house  of  a friend  to  enjoy  her 
youth.  But  now  comes  this  gentleman  — long  life  to  him! — and 
says  “Come!  The  judge  summons  you.”  I find  myself  quite  be- 
wildered. My  heart  is  palpitating.  Sir,  will  you  conduct  me  to  the 
court-room? 

Beadle.  Follow  me,  madam.  [They  walk  about.]  Here  is  the  court- 
room. Pray  enter,  madam.  [They  enter.] 

Mother.  [Approaching.]  Happiness  be  yours,  most  worthy  gentle- 
men. 

Judge.  My  good  woman,  you  are  very  welcome.  Pray  be  seated. 


138 


ACT  THE  NINTH 


[141.24  S. 


Mother.  Thank  you.  [She  seats  herself !] 

Sansthdnaka.  [. Abusively .]  You  re  here,  are  you,  you  old  bawd? 
Judge.  Tell  me.  Are  you  Vasantasena’s  mother? 

Mother.  I am. 

Judge.  Whither  has  Vasantasena  gone  at  this  moment? 

Mother.  To  the  house  of  a friend. 

Judge.  What  is  the  name  of  her  friend? 

Mother.  [ Aside. ] Hear  me!  Really,  this  is  very  embarrassing. 
[Aloud. Any  one  else  might  ask  me  this,  but  not  a judge. 

Judge.  Pray  do  not  be  embarrassed.  The  conduct  of  the  case  puts 
the  question. 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  The  conduct  of  the  case  puts  the  ques- 
tion. You  incur  no  fault.  Speak. 

Mother.  What!  the  conduct  of  the  case?  If  that  is  so,  then  lis- 
ten, worthy  gentlemen.  There  lives  in  the  merchants’  quarter  the 
grandson  of  the  merchant  Yinayadatta,  the  son  of  Sagaradatta, 
a man  whose  name  is  a good  omen  in  itself — that  name  is  Cha- 
rudatta.  In  his  house  my  daughter  enjoys  her  youth. 
Sansthdnaka.  Hid  you  hear  that?  Write  those  words  down.  My 
contention  is  with  Charudatta. 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  It  is  no  sin  for  Charudatta  to  be  her 
friend. 

Judge.  The  conduct  of  this  case  demands  the  presence  of  Charu- 
datta. 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  Exactly. 

Judge.  Hhanadatta,  write  as  the  first  article  in  the  case  “Vasanta- 
sena went  to  the  house  of  Charudatta.”  But  must  we  summon  the 
worthy  Charudatta  also?  No,  the  conduct  of  the  case  summons 
him.  Go,  my  good  beadle,  summon  Charudatta, — but  gently,  with- 
out haste,  without  giving  him  cause  for  anxiety,  respectfully,  as  it 
were  incidentally, — with  the  words  “The  judge  wishes  to  see  you.” 


P.  236.11] 


THE  TRIAL 


139 


Beadle.  Yes,  Your  Honor.  [He  goes  out,  then  returns  with  Charu- 
datta.] Follow  me,  sir. 

Charudatta.  [ Thought / ully. ] 

My  character  and  kin  are  known 
Unto  the  king  who  rules  our  state; 

And  in  this  summons  there  is  shown 

A doubt  begotten  of  my  wretched  fate.  8 

[Reflectively.  Aside.] 

Ah!  Were  there  those,  the  man  to  recognize 
Who  met  me  on  the  road,  from  bondage  freed? 

Or  did  the  king,  who  sees  through  cunning  spies, 

Learn  that  my  cart  was  lent  him  in  his  need  ? 

Why  should  I else  be  forced  to  tread  the  street, 

Like  one  accused  of  crime,  my  judge  to  meet?  9 

But  why  consider  thus?  I must  go  to  the  court-room.  My  good 
beadle,  conduct  me  to  the  court. 

Beadle.  Follow  me,  sir.  [They  walk  about.] 

Charudatta.  [Apprehensively.]  And  what  means  this? 

Hear  how  the  gloomy  raven  hoarsely  croaks ; 

The  slaves  of  justice  summon  me  again ; 

My  left  eye  twitches ; these  repeated  strokes 

Of  threatened  evil  frighten  me  and  pain.  10 

Beadle.  Follow  me,  sir,  gently  and  without  haste. 

Charudatta.  [ Walks  about  and  looks  before  him.] 

Upon  the  withered  tree,  a crow 
Turns  to  the  sun; 

His  left  eye  falls  on  me.  Ah,  woe! 

My  doubt  is  done.  11 

[He  looks  in  another  direction.]  But  see!  a snake! 

His  eye  is  fixed  upon  me;  and  his  back 
Flashes  like  antimony’s  lustrous  black; 


140 


ACT  THE  NINTH 


[143.21  S. 


His  long  tongue  quivers;  four  white  fangs  appear; 

His  belly  swells  and  coils.  He  slumbered  here, 

This  prince  of  serpents,  till  I crossed  his  path, 

And  now  he  darts  upon  me  in  his  wrath.  12 

And  more  than  this: 

I slip,  although  the  ground  has  felt  no  rain; 

My  left  eye,  and  my  left  arm  throb  again; 

Another  bird  is  screaming  overhead; 

All  bodes  a cruel  death,  and  hope  is  fled.  13 

Surely,  the  gods  will  grant  that  all  may  yet  be  well. 

Beadle.  Follow  me,  sir.  Here  is  the  court-room.  Pray  enter. 
Charudatta.  [. Enters  and  looks  about.]  How  wonderfully  splendid 
is  the  court-room.  For  it  seems  an  ocean, 

Whose  waters  are  the  king’s  advisers,  deep 
In  thought;  as  waves  and  shells  it  seems  to  keep 
The  attorneys ; and  as  sharks  and  crocodiles 
It  has  its  spies  that  stand  in  waiting  files; 

Its  elephants  and  horses1  represent 
The  cruel  ocean-fish  on  murder  bent; 

As  if  with  herons  of  the  sea,  it  shines 
With  screaming  pettifoggers’  numerous  lines; 

While  in  the  guise  of  serpents,  scribes  are  creeping 
Upon  its  statecraft-trodden  shore:  the  court 
The  likeness  of  an  ocean  still  is  keeping, 

To  which  all  harmful-cruel  beasts  resort.  14 

Come!  [As  he  enters , he  strikes  his  head  against  the  door.  Reflec- 
tively.]  Alas!  This  also? 

My  left  eye  throbs;  a raven  cries; 

A serpent  coils  athwart  my  path. 

My  safety  now  with  heaven  lies.  15 

But  I must  enter.  [He  does  so.] 

1 Elephants  were  employed  as  executioners ; and,  according  to  Laliadikshita,  the  horses  served 
the  same  purpose. 


P.  238.16] 


THE  TRIAL 


141 


Judge.  This  is  Charudatta. 

A countenance  like  his,  with  clear-cut  nose, 

Whose  great,  wide-opened  eye  frank  candor  shows, 

Is  not  the  home  of  wantonness; 

With  elephants,  with  horses,  and  with  kine, 

The  outer  form  is  inner  habit’s  sign; 

With  men  no  less.  16 

Charudatta.  My  greetings  to  the  officers  of  justice.  Officials,  I sa- 
lute you. 

Judge.  [Betraying  his  agitation. ] You  are  very  welcome,  sir.  My 
good  beadle,  give  the  gentleman  a seat. 

Beadle.  [Brings  a seat.]  Here  is  a seat.  Pray  be  seated,  sir.  [Charu- 
datta seats  himself.] 

Sansthanaka.  [Angrily.]  You’re  here,  are  you,  you  woman-mur- 
derer? Well!  Thish  is  a fine  trial,  thish  is  a jusht  trial,  where  they 
give  a sheat  to  thish  woman-murderer.  [Haughtily.]  But  it’s  all 
right.  They  can  give  it  to  him. 

Judge.  Charudatta,  have  you  any  attachment,  or  affection,  or 
friendship,  with  this  lady’s  daughter? 

Charudatta.  What  lady? 

Judge.  This  lady.  [He  indicates  Vasantasena  s mother.] 
Charudatta.  [Bising.]  Madam,  I salute  you. 

Mother.  Long  life  to  you,  my  son!  [Aside.]  So  this  is  Charudatta. 
My  daughter’s  youth  is  in  good  hands. 

Judge.  Sir,  is  the  courtezan  your  friend?  [Charudatta  betrays  his 
embarrassment .] 

Sansthanaka.  He  tries  to  hide  the  deed  he  did ; 

He  lies,  from  shame  or  fear; 

He  murdered  her,  of  her  got  rid 
For  gold,  and  thinks  the  deed  is  hid; 

Not  sho  his  mashter  here. 


17 


[145.18  S. 


142  ACT  THE  NINTH 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  Speak,  Charudatta.  Do  not  be  ashamed. 
This  is  a lawsuit. 

Charudatta.  [ In  embarrassment.']  Officials,  how  can  I testify  that 
a courtezan  is  my  friend?  But  at  worst,  it  is  youth  that  bears  the 
blame,  not  character. 

Judge.  The  case  is  hard;  then  banish  shame, 

Though  it  oppress  your  heart; 

Speak  truth  with  fortitude,  and  aim 

To  set  deceit  apart.  18 

Do  not  be  embarrassed.  The  conduct  of  the  case  puts  the  question. 
Charudatta.  Officer,  with  whom  have  I a lawsuit? 

Sansthanaka.  [Arrogantly.]  With  me! 

Charudatta.  A lawsuit  with  you  is  unendurable! 

Sansthanaka.  Well,  well,  woman-murderer!  You  murder  a woman 
like  Vasantasena  who  used  to  wear  a hundred  gems,  and  now  you 
try  deceitful  deceivings  to  hide  it ! 

Charudatta.  You  are  a fool. 

Judge.  Enough  of  him,  good  Charudatta.  Speak  the  truth.  Is  the 
courtezan  your  friend  ? 

Charudatta.  She  is. 

Judge.  Sir,  where  is  Vasantasena? 

Charudatta.  She  has  gone  home. 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  How  did  she  go?  When  did  she  go?  Who 
accompanied  her? 

Charudatta.  [Aside.]  Shall  I say  that  she  went  unobserved? 
Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  Speak,  sir. 

Charudatta.  She  went  home.  What  more  shall  I say? 
Sansthanaka.  She  was  enticed  into  my  old  garden  Pushpakaranda, 
and  was  shtrangled  for  her  money.  Now  will  you  shay  that  she 
went  home? 

Charudatta.  Man,  you  are  crazy. 


P.  241.19] 


THE  TRIAL 


143 


The  very  clouds  of  heaven  wet  not  you ; 

Your  lips  are  like  the  blue-jay’s  wing-tip  worn, 

Yes,  full  as  fickle  with  their  speech  untrue, 

And  like  the  winter  lotus  lustre-lorn.  19 

Judge.  [Aside.] 

Take  the  Himalayan  hills  within  your  hand, 

And  swim  from  ocean  strand  to  ocean  strand, 

And  hold  within  your  grasp  the  fleeting  wind: 

Then  may  you  think  that  Charudatta  sinned.  20 

[Aloud.]  This  is  the  noble  Charudatta.  How  could  he  commit 
this  crime?  [He  repeats  the  verse  “A  countenance  like  his:”^a^ 
Ul.] 

Sansthanaka.  Why  thish  partiality  in  a lawshuit? 

Judge.  Away,  you  fool! 

Illiterate,  you  gloss  the  Sacred  Law, 

And  still  your  tongue  uninjured  find? 

The  midday  sun  with  steadfast  eye  you  saw, 

And  are  not  straightway  stricken  blind? 

You  thrust  your  hand  into  the  blazing  fire. 

And  draw  it  forth,  unscathed  and  sound? 

Drag  Charudatta’s  virtue  in  the  mire, 

Nor  sink  beneath  this  yawning  ground?  21 

How  could  the  noble  Charudatta  commit  a crime? 

Of  all  the  riches  of  the  mighty  sea 
Only  the  swelling  waters  now  are  left, 

Because,  without  consideration,  he— 

For  others’  good — himself  of  all  has  reft. 

And  should  this  high-souled  man,  this  store-house  where 
All  gems  of  virtue  gather  and  unite, 

For  lucre’s  sake,  so  foul  a trespass  dare 

That  in  it  even  his  foe  could  not  delight?  22 

Mother.  You  scoundrel!  When  the  golden  casket  that  was  left 


r 


144  ACT  THE  NINTH  [w.ies. 

with  him  as  a pledge  was  stolen  by  thieves  at  night,  he  gave  in 
place  of  it  a pearl  necklace  that  was  the  pride  of  the  four  seas. 
And  he  should  now,  for  a mere  trifle — for  her  money! — do  this 
sin?  Oh,  my  child,  come  back  to  me,  my  daughter!  [She  weeps.] 
Judge.  Noble  Charudatta,  did  she  go  on  foot,  or  in  a bullock- 
cart? 

Charudatta.  I did  not  see  her  when  she  went.  Therefore  I do  not 
know  whether  she  went  on  foot,  or  in  a bullock-cart. 

[Enter  V Irak  a,  in  anger.] 

Vlraka.  My  anger  was  so  prodded  to  the  quick 
By  that  dishonoring,  insulting  kick, 

And  so  I brooded,  till  at  last  the  night 
Unwilling  yielded  to  the  dawning  light.  23 

So  now  I will  go  to  the  court-room.  [He  enters.]  May  happiness 
be  the  lot  of  these  honorable  gentlemen. 

Judge.  Ah,  it  is  Vlraka,  the  captain  of  the  guard.  Vlraka,  what 
is  the  purpose  of  your  coming? 

Vlraka.  Well!  I was  looking  for  Aryaka,  in  all  the  excitement 
about  his  escape  from  prison.  I had  my  suspicions  about  a covered 
bullock-cart  that  was  coming,  and  wanted  to  look  in.  “You’ve 
made  one  inspection,  man,  I must  make  another,”  said  I,  and  then 
I was  kicked  by  the  highly  respectable  Chandanaka.  You  have 
heard  the  matter,  gentlemen.  The  rest  is  your  affair. 

Judge.  My  good  man,  do  you  know  to  whom  the  bullock-cart 
belonged  ? 

Vlraka.  To  this  gentleman  here,  Charudatta.  And  the  driver  said 
that  Vasantasena  was  in  it,  and  was  on  her  way  to  have  a good 
time  in  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda. 

Sansthanaka.  Lishten  to  that,  too ! 

Judge.  This  moon,  alas,  though  spotless-bright, 

Is  now  eclipsed,  and  robbed  of  light; 


P.  244.8] 


THE  TRIAL 


145 


The  bank  is  fallen;  the  waves  appear 

Befouled,  that  once  were  bright  and  clear.  24 

Viraka,  we  will  investigate  your  case  here  later.  Mount  the  horse 
that  stands  before  the  court-room  door,  go  to  the  garden  Push- 
pakaranda,  and  see  whether  a woman  has  perished  there  or  not. 
Viraka.  Yes,  sir.  [He  goes  out,  then  returns .]  I have  been  there. 
And  I saw  the  body  of  a woman,  torn  by  wild  beasts. 
Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  How  do  you  know  that  it  was  the  body 
of  a woman? 

Viraka.  That  I perceived  from  the  traces  of  hair  and  arms  and 
hands  and  feet. 

Judge.  Alas  for  the  difficulties  which  are  caused  by  the  actions 
of  men ! 

The  more  one  may  apply  his  skill, 

The  harder  is  the  matter  still ; 

Plain  are  indeed  the  law’s  demands, 

Yet  judgment  insecurely  stands 
As  some  poor  cow  on  shifting  sands.  25 

Charudatta.  [Aside.'] 

As  bees,  when  flowers  begin  to  blow, 

Gather  to  sip  the  honey,  so 

When  man  is  marked  by  adverse  fate, 

Misfortunes  enter  every  gate.  26 

Judge.  Noble  Charudatta,  speak  truth! 

Charudatta.  A mean  and  jealous  creature,  passion-blind, 

Sets  all  his  soul,  some  fatal  means  to  find 
To  slay  the  man  he  envies ; shall  his  lies 
By  evil  nature  prompted,  win  the  prize? 

No!  he  is  unregarded  by  the  wise.  27 

And  more  than  this: 

The  creeper’s  beauty  would  I never  blight, 

Nor  pluck  its  flowers;  should  I not  be  afraid 


146 


ACT  THE  NINTH 


[149.15  S. 


To  seize  her  hair  so  lovely-long,  and  bright 

As  wings  of  bees,  and  slay  a weeping  maid  ? 28 

Sansthanaka.  Hello,  magistrates ! How  can  you  investigate  the 
cashe  with  such  partiality?  Why,  even  now  you  let  thish  shcoun- 
drel  Charudatta  stay  on  his  sheat. 

Judge.  My  good  beadle,  so  be  it.  [ The  beadle  follows  Sanstha- 
naka s suggestion .] 

Charudatta.  Consider,  magistrates,  consider  what  you  are  doing! 
[He  leaves  his  seat,  and  sits  on  the  floor.] 

Sansthanaka.  [. Dancing  about  gleefully.  Aside.]  Fine!  The  shin 
that  I did  falls  on  another  man’s  head.  Sho  I ’ll  sit  where  Charu- 
datta was.  [He  does  so.]  Look  at  me,  Charudatta,  and  confessh 
that  you  murdered  her. 

Charudatta.  Magistrates ! 

A mean  and  jealous  creature,  passion-blind, 

Sets  all  his  soul,  some  fatal  means  to  find 
To  slay  the  man  he  envies;  shall  his  lies. 

By  evil  nature  prompted,  win  the  prize? 

No!  he  is  unregarded  by  the  wise.  (27) 

[Sighing.  Aside.] 

My  friend  Maitreya!  Oh,  this  cruel  blow! 

My  wife,  thou  issue  of  a spotless  strain! 

My  Rohasena!  Here  am  I,  laid  low 
By  sternest  fate ; and  thou,  thou  dost  not  know 
That  all  thy  childish  games  are  played  in  vain. 

Thou  playest,  heedless  of  another’s  pain ! 29 

But  Maitreya  I sent  to  Vasantasena,  that  he  might  bring  me  tid- 
ings of  her,  and  might  restore  the  jewels  which  she  gave  my  child, 
to  buy  him  a toy  cart.  Why  then  does  he  linger? 

[Enter  Maitreya  with  the  gems.] 

Maitreya.  Charudatta  bade  me  go  to  Vasantasena,  to  return  her 


P.  246.19] 


THE  TRIAL 


147 


jewels,  and  he  said  to  me:  “Maitreya,  Vasantasena  adorned  my 
dear  Rohasena  with  her  own  jewels,  and  sent  him  thus  to  his 
mother.  It  was  fitting  that  she  should  give  him  the  jewels,  but 
not  that  we  should  receive  them.  Therefore  restore  them  to  her.” 
So  now  I will  go  to  Vasantasena  s house.  [He  walks  about  and 
looks  around,  then  speaks  to  a person  behind  the  scenes .]  Ah,  it  is 
Master  Rebhila.  Oh,  Master  Rebhila,  why  do  you  seem  so  ex- 
ceedingly troubled?  [He  listens.]  What!  do  you  mean  to  say  that 
my  dear  friend  Charudatta  has  been  summoned  to  court?  That 
can  hardly  be  an  insignificant  matter.  [He  reflects .]  I will  go  to 
Vasantasenas  house  later,  but  now  I will  go  to  the  court-room. 
[He  walks  about  and  looks  around .]  Here  is  the  court-room.  I will 
go  in  at  once.  [He  enters .]  May  happiness  be  the  lot  of  the  magis- 
trates. Where  is  my  friend? 

Judge.  Here. 

Maitreya.  My  friend,  I wish  you  happiness. 

Charudatta.  It  will  be  mine. 

Maitreya.  And  peace. 

Charudatta.  That  too  will  be  mine. 

Maitreya.  My  friend,  why  do  you  seem  so  exceedingly  troubled? 
And  why  were  you  summoned? 

Charudatta.  My  friend, 

A scoundrel  I,  who  bear  the  blame, 

Nor  seek  in  heaven  to  be  blest; 

A maid— or  goddess — ’t  is  the  same — 

But  he  will  say  the  rest.  30 

Maitreya.  What?  what? 

Charudatta.  [ Whispers .]  That  is  it. 

Maitreya.  Who  says  that? 

Charudatta.  [Indicating  Sansthanaka.]  This  poor  fellow  is  the  in- 
strument that  fate  uses  to  accuse  me. 


148 


ACT  THE  NINTH 


[151.12  S. 


Maitreya.  [ Aside  to  Charudatta.]  Why  don't  you  simply  say  that 
she  went  home? 

Charudatta.  Though  I say  it,  it  is  not  believed,  so  unfortunate  is 
my  condition. 

Maitreya.  But  gentlemen!  He  adorned  the  city  of  Ujjayini  with 
mansions,  cloisters,  parks,  temples,  pools,  and  fountains,  and  he 
should  be  mad  enough  to  commit  such  a crime — and  for  a mere 
trifle?  [IV rathfully.]  You  offspring  of  a loose  wench,  you  brother- 
in-law  of  the  king,  Sansthanaka,  you  libertine,  you  slanderer,  you 
buffoon,  you  gilded  monkey,  say  it  before  me!  This  friend  of  mine 
does  n’t  even  draw  a flowering  jasmine  creeper  to  himself,  to  ga- 
ther the  blossoms,  for  fear  that  a twig  might  perhaps  be  injured. 
How  should  he  commit  a crime  like  this,  which  heaven  and  earth 
call  accursed?  Just  wait,  you  son  of  a bawd!  Wait  till  I split  your 
head  into  a hundred  pieces  with  this  staff  of  mine,  as  crooked  as 
your  heart. 

Sansthanaka.  [Angrily.]  Lishten  to  that,  gentlemen!  I have  a 
quarrel,  or  a lawshuit,  with  Charudatta.  What  right  has  a man 
with  a pate  that  looks  like  a caret,  to  shplit  my  head  into  a hun- 
dred pieces?  Not  much ! You  confounded  rashcal ! [Maitreya  raises 
his  staff  and  repeats  his  words.  Sansthanaka  rises  angi'ily  and  strikes 
him.  Maitreya  stf'ikes  back.  During  the  scuffle  the  jewels  fall  from 
Maitreya  s girdle.] 

Sansthanaka.  [Picks  up  the  jewels  and  examines  them.  Excitedly.'] 
Look,  gentlemen,  look!  These  are  the  poor  girl’s  jewels!  [Pointing 
to  Charudatta.]  For  a trifle  like  thish  he  murdered  her,  and  killed 
her  too.  [The  magistrates  all  bow  their  heads.] 

Charudatta.  [Aside  to  Maitreya.] 

’T  is  thus  my  fate  would  vent  its  gall, 

That  at  this  moment  they  should  fall. 

These  gems — and  with  them,  I. 

Maitreya.  But  why  don't  you  simply  tell  the  truth  ? 


31 


P.  250.1] 

Charudatta.  My  friend. 


THE  TRIAL 


149 


The  king  perceives  with  blinded  eye, 
Nor  on  the  truth  that  eye  will  bend; 


Though  telling  all,  I cannot  fly 
A wretched  and  inglorious  end. 


32 


Judge.  Alas!  Alas! 


With  Mars  strives  Jupiter,  and  dies; 
Beside  them  both  there  seems  to  rise 
A comet-planet 1 in  the  skies. 


33 


Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  [Looking  at  the  casket.  To  Vasantasenas 
mother.']  Madam,  pray  examine  this  golden  casket  attentively,  to 
see  whether  it  be  the  same  or  not. 

Mother.  [Examining  the  casket.]  It  is  similar,  but  not  the  same. 
Sansthanaka.  Oh,  you  old  bawd!  You  confessh  it  with  your  eyes, 
and  deny  it  with  your  lips. 

Mother.  Away,  you  scoundrel! 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  Speak  carefully.  Is  it  the  same  or  not? 
Mother.  Sir,  the  craftsman’s  skill  captivates  the  eye.  But  it  is  not 
the  same. 

Judge.  My  good  woman,  do  you  know  these  jewels? 

Mother.  No,  I said.  No!  I don’t  recognize  them;  but  perhaps  they 
were  made  by  the  same  craftsman. 

Judge.  Gild-warden,  see! 

Gems  often  seem  alike  in  many  ways, 

When  the  artist’s  mind  on  form  and  beauty  plays; 

For  craftsmen  imitate  what  they  have  seen, 

And  skilful  hands  remake  what  once  has  been.  34 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  Do  these  jewels  belong  to  Charudatta? 
Charudatta.  Never! 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  To  whom  then? 

1 This  refers  to  the  fallen  jewels. 


150 


ACT  THE  NINTH 


[153.12  S. 


Charudatta.  To  this  lady’s  daughter. 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  How  did  she  lose  them? 

Charudatta.  She  lost  them.  Yes,  so  much  is  true. 

Gild-warden  and  Clerk.  Charudatta,  speak  the  truth  in  this  mat- 
ter. For  you  must  remember. 

Truth  brings  well-being  in  its  train; 

Through  speaking  truth,  no  evils  rise; 

Truth,  precious  syllable! — Refrain 

From  hiding  truth  in  lies.  35 

Charudatta.  The  jewels,  the  jewels!  I do  not  know.  But  I do  know 
that  they  were  taken  from  my  house. 

Sansthanaka.  Firsht  you  take  her  into  the  garden  and  murder 
her.  And  now  you  hide  it  by  tricky  trickinessh. 

Judge.  Noble  Charudatta,  speak  the  truth! 

Merciless  lashes  wait  to  smite 

This  moment  on  thy  tender  flesh; 

And  we — we  can  but  think  it  right.  36 

Charudatta.  Of  sinless  sires  I boast  my  birth, 

And  sin  in  me  was  never  found; 

Yet  if  suspicion  taints  my  worth, 

What  boots  it  though  my  heart  be  sound?  37 
[A side. \ And  yet  I know  not  what  to  do  with  life,  so  I be  robbed 
of  Vasantasena.  \Aloud.~\  Ah,  why  waste  words? 

A scoundrel  I,  who  bear  the  blame, 

Nor  think  of  earth,  nor  heaven  blest; 

That  sweetest  maid,  in  passion’s  flame — 

But  he  will  say  the  rest.  38 

Sansthanaka.  Killed  her!  Come,  you  shay  it  too.  “I  killed  her." 
Charudatta.  You  have  said  it. 

Sansthanaka.  Lishten,  my  mashters,  lishten!  He  murdered  her!  No 
one  but  him!  Doubt  is  over.  Let  punishment  be  inflicted  on  the 
body  of  thish  poor  Charudatta. 


P.  253.1] 


THE  TRIAL 


151 


Judge.  Beadle,  we  must  do  as  the  king’s  brother-in-law  says. 
Guardsmen,  lay  hold  on  this  Charudatta.  \The  guardsmen  do  50.] 
Mother.  Be  merciful,  good  gentlemen,  be  merciful!  [She  repeats 
what  she  had  said  before,  beginning  “When  the  golden  casket:” 
page  143.]  If  my  daughter  is  killed,  she  is  killed.  Let  him  live  for 
me — bless  him!  And  besides,  a lawsuit  is  a matter  between  plain- 
tiff and  defendant.  I am  the  real  plaintiff.  So  let  him  go  free ! 
Sansthanaka.  You  shlave,  get  out  of  the  way!  What  have  you  got 
to  shay  about  him  ? 

Judge.  Go,  madam.  Guardsmen,  conduct  her  forth. 

Mother.  Oh,  my  child,  my  son ! [Exit  weeping. 

Sansthanaka.  [Aside.]  I ’ve  done  shomething  worthy  of  my  shelf. 
Now  1 11  go.  [Exit. 

Judge.  Noble  Charudatta,  the  decision  lies  with  us,  but  the  rest 
depends  on  the  king.  And  yet,  beadle,  let  King  Palaka  be  reminded 
of  this : 

The  Brahman  who  has  sinned,  our  laws  declare, 

May  not  be  slain,  but  banished  from  the  realm, 

And  with  his  wealth  entire  abroad  may  fare.  39 

Beadle.  Yes,  Your  Honor.  [He  goes  out,  then  reenters  in  tears.] 
Oh,  sirs,  I was  with  the  king.  And  King  Palaka  says:  “Inasmuch 
as  he  killed  Vasantasena  for  such  a trifle,  these  same  jewels  shall 
be  hung  about  his  neck,  the  drum  shall  be  beaten,  he  shall  be  con- 
ducted to  the  southern  burying-ground,  and  there  impaled.”  And 
whoever  else  shall  commit  such  a crime,  shall  be  punished  with 
the  like  dreadful  doom. 

Charudatta.  Oh,  how  wanton  is  this  act  of  King  Palaka!  Never- 
theless, 

Although  his  counsellors  may  plunge  a king 
Into  injustice’  dangers  great. 

Yet  he  will  reap  the  woe  and  suffering; 

And ’t  is  a righteous  fate. 

And  more  than  this : 


40 


152 


ACT  THE  NINTH 


[155.10  S. 


They  who  pervert  the  king’s  true  bent, 

The  white  crow’s  part  who  play, 

Have  slain  their  thousands  innocent, 

And  slay,  and  slay,  and  slay.  41 

My  friend  Maitreya,  go,  greet  the  mother  of  my  son  in  my  name 
for  the  last  time.  And  keep  my  son  Rohasena  free  from  harm. 
Maitreya.  When  the  root  is  cut  away,  how  can  the  tree  be  saved? 
Charudatta.  No,  not  so. 

When  man  departs  to  worlds  above, 

In  living  son  yet  liveth  he; 

Bestow  on  Rohasena  love 

No  less  than  that  thou  gavest  me.  42 

Maitreya.  Oh,  my  friend ! I will  prove  myself  your  friend  by  con- 
tinuing the  life  that  you  leave  unfinished. 

Charudatta.  And  let  me  see  Rohasena  for  a single  moment. 
Maitreya.  I will.  It  is  but  fitting. 

Judge.  My  good  beadle,  remove  this  man.  [ The  beadle  does  so.] 
Who  is  there  ? Let  the  headsmen  receive  their  orders.  [ The  guards- 
men loose  their  hold  on  Charudatta,  and  all  of  them  go  out.] 
Beadle.  Come  with  me,  sir. 

Charudatta.  [Mournfully  repeats  the  verse,  page  146,  beginning 
“My  friend  Maitreya!”  Then,  as  if  speaking  to  one  not  present.] 

If  you  had  proved  my  conduct  by  the  fire, 

By  water,  poison,  scales,  and  thus  had  known 
That  I deserved  that  saws  should  bite  my  bone. 

My  Brahman’s  frame,  more  could  I not  desire. 

You  trust  a foeman,  slay  me  thus?  ’T  is  well. 

With  sons,  and  sons’  sons,  now  you  plunge  to  hell ! 43 

I come!  I come!  [Exeunt  omnes. 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


THE  END 

[ Enter  Charudatta,  accompanied  by  two  headsmen .] 

Headsmen.  fr'HEN  think  no  longer  of  the  pain; 

A In  just  a second  you  ’ll  be  slain. 

We  understand  the  fashions  new 
To  fetter  you  and  kill  you  too. 

In  chopping  heads  we  never  fail, 

Nor  when  the  victim  we  impale.  1 

Out  of  the  way,  gentlemen,  out  of  the  way!  This  is  the  noble 
Charudatta. 

The  oleander  on  his  brow, 

In  headsmen’s  hands  you  see  him  now; 

Like  a lamp  whose  oil  runs  nearly  dry, 

His  light  fades  gently,  ere  it  die.  2 

Charudatta.  [Gloomily.] 

My  body  wet  by  tear-drops  falling,  falling; 

My  limbs  polluted  by  the  clinging  mud; 

Flowers  from  the  graveyard  torn,  my  wreath  appalling; 

For  ghastly  sacrifice  hoarse  ravens  calling, 

And  for  the  fragrant  incense  of  my  blood.  3 

Headsmen.  Out  of  the  way,  gentlemen,  out  of  the  way! 

Why  gaze  upon  the  good  man  so  ? 

The  ax  of  death  soon  lays  him  low. 

Yet  good  men  once  sought  shelter  free, 

Like  birds,  upon  this  kindly  tree.  4 

Come,  Charudatta,  come! 

Charudatta.  Incalculable  are  the  ways  of  human  destiny,  that  I 
am  come  to  such  a plight! 

Red  marks  of  hands  in  sandal  paste 
O’er  all  my  body  have  been  placed; 


154 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[157.19  S. 


The  man,  with  meal  and  powder  strewn, 

. Is  now  to  beast  of  offering  grown.  5 

[He  gazes  intently  before  him.']  Alas  for  human  differences! 
[Mournfully.] 

For  when  they  see  the  fate  that  I must  brave, 

With  tears  for  death’s  poor  victim  freely  given, 

The  citizens  cry  “shame,”  yet  cannot  save, — 

Can  only  pray  that  I attain  to  heaven.  6 

Headsmen.  Out  of  the  way,  gentlemen,  out  of  the  way!  Why  do 
you  gaze  upon  him? 

God  Indra  moving  through  the  sky,1 
The  calving  cow,  the  falling  star, 

The  good  man  when  he  needs  must  die, — 

These  four  behold  not  from  afar.  7 

Goha.  Look,  Ahinta!  Look,  man! 

While  he,  of  citizens  the  best, 

Goes  to  his  death  at  fate’s  behest, 

Does  heaven  thus  weep  that  he  must  die  ? 

Does  lightning  paint  the  cloudless  sky  ? 8 

Ahinta.  Goha,  man, 

The  heaven  weeps  not  that  he  must  die, 

Nor  lightning  paints  the  cloudless  sky; 

Yet  streams  are  falling  constantly 

From  many  a woman’s  clouded  eye.  9 

And  again : 

While  this  poor  victim  to  his  death  is  led, 

No  man  nor  woman  here  but  sorely  weeps; 

And  so  the  dust,  by  countless  tear-drops  fed, 

Thus  peacefully  upon  the  highway  sleeps.  10 

Charudatta.  [ Gazes  intently.  Mournfully.] 

These  women,  in  their  palaces  who  stay, 

From  half-shut  windows  peering,  thus  lament, 

1 That  is,  the  lightning. 


P.  258.12] 


THE  END 


155 


“Alas  for  Charudatta!  Woe  the  day!” 

And  pity-streaming  eyes  on  me  are  bent.  11 

Headsmen.  Come,  Charudatta,  come!  Here  is  the  place  of  procla- 
mation. Beat  the  drum  and  proclaim  the  sentence. 

Listen,  good  people,  listen!  This  is  the  noble  Charudatta,  son 
of  Sagaradatta,  and  grandson  of  the  merchant  Yinayadatta.  This 
malefactor  enticed  the  courtezan  Vasantasena  into  the  deserted 
old  garden  Pushpakaranda,  and  for  a mere  trifle  murdered  her  by 
strangling.  He  was  taken  with  the  booty,  and  confessed  his  guilt. 
Therefore  are  we  under  orders  from  King  Palaka  to  execute  him. 
And  if  any  other  commit  such  a crime,  accursed  in  this  world  and 
the  next,  him  too  King  Palaka  condemns  to  the  like  punishment. 
Charudatta.  [Despondently.  Aside. ] 

By  hundred  sacrifices  purified, 

My  radiant  name 

W as  once  proclaimed  by  countless  altars’  side. 

And  knew  no  blame. 

Now  comes  my  hour  of  death,  and  evil  men 
Of  baser  fame 

In  public  spots  proclaim  it  once  again, 

But  linked  with  shame.  12 

[He  looks  up  and  stops  his  ears. ] Vasantasena!  Oh,  my  beloved! 

From  thy  dear  lips,  that  vied  with  coral’s  red, 

Betraying  teeth  more  bright  than  moonbeams  fair, 

My  soul  with  heaven’s  nectar  once  was  fed. 

How  can  I,  helpless,  taste  that  poison  dread, 

To  drink  shame’s  poisoned  cup  how  can  I bear?  13 
Headsmen.  Out  of  the  way,  gentlemen,  out  of  the  way! 

This  treasure-house,  with  pearls  of  virtue  stored, 

This  bridge  for  good  men  o’er  misfortune’s  river, 

This  gem  now  robbed  of  all  its  golden  hoard, 

Departs  our  town  to-day,  departs  forever. 

And  again : 


14 


156 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[159.15  S. 


Whom  fortune  favors,  find 
That  all  the  world  is  kind ; 

Whose  happy  days  are  ended. 

Are  rarely  thus  befriended.  15 

Charudatta.  [ Looks  about  him.] 

Their  faces  with  their  garments’  hem  now  hiding, 

They  stand  afar,  whom  once  I counted  friends: 

Even  foes  have  smiles  for  men  with  Fortune  biding; 

But  friends  prove  faithless  when  good  fortune  ends.  16 
Headsmen.  They  are  out  of  the  way.  The  street  is  cleared.  Lead 
on  the  condemned  criminal. 

Charudatta.  [Sighing.] 

My  friend  Maitreya!  Oh,  this  cruel  blow! 

My  wife,  thou  issue  of  a spotless  strain! 

My  Rohasena!  Here  am  I,  laid  low 
By  sternest  fate;  and  thou,  thou  dost  not  know 
That  all  thy  childish  games  are  played  in  vain. 

Thou  playest,  heedless  of  another’s  pain!  (ix.  29) 

Voices  behind  the  scenes.  My  father!  Oh,  my  friend! 

Charudatta.  [Listens.  Mournfully.]  You  are  a leader  in  your  own 
caste.  I would  beg  a favor  at  your  hands. 

Headsmen.  From  our  hands  you  would  receive  a favor? 
Charudatta.  Heaven  forbid!  Yet  a headsman  is  neither  so  wanton 
nor  so  cruel  as  King  Palaka.  That  I may  be  happy  in  the  other 
world,  I ask  to  see  the  face  of  my  son. 

Headsinen.  So  be  it. 

A voice  behind  the  scenes.  My  father!  oh,  my  father!  [Charudatta 
hears  the  words,  and  mournfully  repeats  his  request.] 

Headsmen.  Citizens,  make  way  a moment.  Let  the  noble  Charu- 
datta look  upon  the  face  of  his  son.  [ Turning  to  the  back  of  the 
stage.]  This  way,  sir!  Come  on,  little  boy! 


P.  261.15] 


THE  END 


157 


[Enter  Maitreya,  with  Rohasena .] 

Maitreya.  Make  haste,  my  boy,  make  haste!  Your  father  is  being 
led  to  his  death. 

Rohasena.  My  father!  oh,  my  father! 

Maitreya.  Oh,  my  friend!  Where  must  I behold  you  now? 
Charudatta.  [. Perceives  his  son  and  his  friend .]  Alas,  my  son!  Alas, 
Maitreya!  [. Mournfully .]  Ah,  woe  is  me! 

Long,  too  long,  shall  I thirst  in  vain 
Through  all  my  sojourn  dread; 

This  vessel 1 small  will  not  contain 

The  water  for  the  dead.  17 

What  may  I give  my  son?  [He  looks  at  himself,  and  perceives  the 
sacrificial  cord.~\  Ah,  this  at  least  is  mine. 

The  precious  cord  that  Brahmans  hold 
Is  unadorned  with  pearls  and  gold ; 

Yet,  girt  therewith,  they  sacrifice 
To  gods  above  and  fathers2  old.  18 

[He  gives  Rohasena  the  cord. ] 

Goha.  Come,  Charudatta!  Come,  man! 

Ahlnta.  Man,  do  you  name  the  noble  Charudatta’s  name,  and  for- 
get the  title?  Remember: 

In  happy  hours,  in  death,  by  night,  by  day, 

Roving  as  free  as  a yet  unbroken  colt, 

Fate  wanders  on  her  unrestricted  way.  19 

And  again: 

Life  will  depart  his  body  soon ; 

Shall  our  reproaches  bow  his  head  ? 

Although  eclipse  may  seize  the  moon, 

We  worship  while  it  seems  but  dead.  20 

Rohasena.  Oh,  headsmen,  where  are  you  leading  my  father? 


1 Rohasena  is  himself  conceived  as  the  receptacle  of  the  water  which  a son  must  pour  as  a 
drink-offering  to  his  dead  father.  2 The  Manes  or  spirits  of  the  blessed  dead. 


158 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[161.10  S. 


Charudatta.  My  darling. 

About  my  neck  I needs  must  wear 
The  oleander- wreath ; 

Upon  my  shoulder  I must  bear 
The  stake,  and  in  my  heart  the  care 
Of  near-approaching  death. 

I go  to-day  to  meet  a dastard’s  ending, 

A victim,  at  the  fatal  altar  bending.  21 

Goha.  My  boy, 

Not  we  the  headsmen  are, 

Though  born  of  headsman  race; 

Thy  father’s  life  who  mar, 

These,  these  are  headsmen  base.  22 

Rohasena.  Then  why  do  you  murder  my  father? 

Goha.  Bless  you,  ’t  is  the  king’s  orders  must  bear  the  blame,  not  we. 
Rohasena.  Kill  me,  and  let  father  go  free. 

Goha.  Bless  you,  may  you  live  long  for  saying  that! 

Charudatta.  [ Tearfully  embracing  his  son.'] 

This  treasure — love — this  taste  of  heaven, 

To  rich  and  poor  alike  is  given; 

Than  sandal  better,  or  than  balm, 

To  soothe  the  heart  and  give  it  calm.  28 

About  my  neck  I needs  must  wear 
The  oleander-wreath. 

Upon  my  shoulder  I must  bear 
The  stake,  and  in  my  heart  the  care 
Of  near-approaching  death. 

I go  to-day  to  meet  a dastard’s  ending, 

A victim,  at  the  fatal  altar  bending.  (21) 

[He  looks  about.  Aside.] 

Their  faces  with  their  garments’  hem  now  hiding. 

They  stand  afar,  whom  once  I counted  friends: 


P.  264.7] 


THE  END 


159 


Even  foes  have  smiles  (16) 

Mciitreya.  My  good  men,  let  my  dear  friend  Charudatta  go  free, 
and  kill  me  instead. 

Charudatta . Heaven  forbid!  [ He  looks  about.  Aside!]  Now  I un- 
derstand. 

for  men  with  Fortune  biding; 

But  friends  prove  faithless  when  good  fortune  ends.  (16) 
[A loud.]  These  women,  in  their  palaces  who  stay, 

From  half-shut  windows  peering,  thus  lament, 
“Alas  for  Charudatta!  Woe  the  day!” 

And  pity-streaming  eyes  on  me  are  bent.  (11) 

Goha.  Out  of  the  way,  gentlemen,  out  of  the  way! 

Why  gaze  upon  the  good  man  so, 

When  shame  his  living  hope  lays  low? 

The  cord  was  broken  at  the  well, 

And  down  the  golden  pitcher  fell.  24 

Charudatta.  [. Mournfully .] 

From  thy  dear  lips,  that  vied  with  coral’s  red. 

Betraying  teeth  more  bright  than  moonbeams  fair, 
My  soul  with  heaven’s  nectar  once  was  fed. 

How  can  I,  helpless,  taste  that  poison  dread, 

To  drink  shame’s  poisoned  cup  how  can  I bear?  (13) 

Ahinta.  Proclaim  the  sentence  again,  man.  [ Goha  does  so.] 

Charud.  So  lowly  fallen ! till  shame  my  virtues  blur, 

Till  such  an  ending  seem  not  loss,  but  gain! 

Yet  o’er  my  heart  there  creeps  a saddening  pain, 

To  hear  them  cry  abroad  “ You  murdered  her!"  25 

[ Enter  Sthavar aka,  fettered,  in  the  palace  tower .] 
Sthavaraka.  [ After  listening  to  the  proclamation.  In  distress.] 
What!  the  innocent  Charudatta  is  being  put  to  death?  And  my 
master  has  thrown  me  into  chains!  Well,  I must  shout  to  them. 
— Listen,  good  gentlemen,  listen ! It  was  I,  wretch  that  I am,  who 


160 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[162.18  S. 


carried  Vasantasena  to  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda,  because 
she  mistook  my  bullock-cart  for  another.  And  then  my  master, 
Sansthanaka,  found  that  she  would  not  love  him,  and  it  was  he, 
not  this  gentleman,  who  murdered  her  by  strangling. — But  they 
are  so  far  away  that  no  one  hears  me.  What  shall  I do?  Shall  I cast 
myself  down?  [He  reflects .]  If  I do,  then  the  noble  Charudatta 
will  not  be  put  to  death.  Yes,  through  this  broken  window  I will 
throw  myself  down  from  the  palace  tower.  Better  that  I should 
meet  my  end,  than  that  the  noble  Charudatta  should  iperish,  this 
tree  of  life  for  noble  youths.  And  if  I die  in  such  a cause,  I have 
attained  heaven.  [He  throws  himself  down.]  W onderful ! I did  not 
meet  my  end,  and  my  fetters  are  broken.  So  I will  follow  the 
sound  of  the  headsmen’s  voices.  [He  discovers  the  headsmen,  and 
hastens  forward .]  Headsmen,  headsmen,  make  way ! 

Headsmen.  For  whom  shall  we  make  way? 

Sthavaraka.  Listen,  good  gentlemen,  listen!  It  was  I,  wretch  that 
I am,  who  carried  Vasantasena  to  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda, 
because  she  mistook  my  bullock-cart  for  another.  And  then  my 
master,  Sansthanaka,  found  that  she  would  not  love  him,  and  it 
was  he,  not  this  gentleman,  who  murdered  her  by  strangling. 
Charudatta.  Thank  heaven! 


But  who  thus  gladdens  this  my  latest  morn, 
When  in  Time’s  snare  I struggle  all  forlorn, 
A streaming  cloud  above  the  rainless  corn  ? 


26 


Listen ! do  you  hear  what  I say  ? 


Death  have  I never  feared,  but  blackened  fame ; 
My  death  were  welcome,  coming  free  from  shame, 
As  were  a son,  new-born  to  bear  my  name. 


27 


And  again: 


That  small,  weak  fool,  whom  I have  never  hated, 
Stained  me  with  sin  wherewith  himself  was  mated, 
An  arrow,  with  most  deadly  poison  baited. 


28 


Headsmen.  Are  you  telling  the  truth,  Sthavaraka  ? 


P.  <266.13] 


THE  END 


161 


Sthavaraka.  I am.  And  to  keep  me  from  telling  anybody,  he  cast 
me  into  chains,  and  imprisoned  me  in  the  tower  of  his  palace. 

[. Enter  Sansthanaka.] 

Sansthanaka.  [ Gleefully .] 

I ate  a shour  and  bitter  dish 

Of  meat  and  herbs  and  shoup  and  fish ; 

I tried  at  home  my  tongue  to  tickle 

With  rice-cakes  plain,  and  rice  with  treacle.  29 

[He  listens .]  The  headsmen’s  voices ! They  shound  like  a broken 
brass  cymbal.  I hear  the  music  of  the  fatal  drum  and  the  kettle- 
drums, and  sho  I shuppose  that  that  poor  man,  Charudatta,  is 
being  led  to  the  place  of  execution.  I musht  go  and  shee  it.  It  is 
a great  delight  to  shee  my  enemy  die.  Beshides,  I ’ve  heard  that 
a man  who  shees  his  enemy  being  killed,  is  sure  not  to  have  shore 
eyes  in  his  next  birth.  I acted  like  a worm  that  had  crept  into  the 
knot  of  a lotush-root.  I looked  for  a hole  to  crawl  out  at,  and 
brought  about  the  death  of  thish  poor  man,  Charudatta.  N ow  I ’ll 
climb  up  the  tower  of  my  own  palace,  and  have  a look  at  my 
own  heroic  deeds.  [He  does  so  and  looks  about.]  Wonderful  what 
a crowd  there  is,  to  shee  that  poor  man  led  to  his  death!  What 
would  it  be  when  an  arishtocrat,  a big  man  like  me,  was  being 
led  to  his  death  ? [He  gazes.]  Look ! There  he  goes  toward  the 
shouth,  adorned  like  a young  shteer.  But  why  was  the  proclama- 
tion made  near  my  palace  tower,  and  why  was  it  shtopped  ? [He 
looks  about.]  Why,  my  shlave  Sthavaraka  is  gone,  too.  I hope  he 
has  n’t  run  away  and  betrayed  the  shecret.  I musht  go  and  look  for 
him.  [He  descends  and  approaches  the  crowd.] 

Sthavaraka.  [Discovers  him.]  There  he  comes,  good  masters ! 
Headsmen.  Give  way!  Make  room!  And  shut  the  door! 

Be  silent,  and  say  nothing  more! 

Here  comes  a mad  bull  through  the  press, 

Whose  horns  are  sharp  with  wickedness. 


30 


162 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[164.16  S. 


Sansthanaka.  Come,  come,  make  way!  [He  approaches .]  Sthava- 
raka,  my  little  shon,  my  shlave,  come,  let ’s  go  home. 

Sthavaraka.  You  scoundrel!  Are  you  not  content  with  the  murder 
of  Yasantasena?  Must  you  try  now  to  murder  the  noble  Charu- 
datta,  that  tree  of  life  to  all  who  loved  him  ? 

Sansthanaka.  I am  beautiful  as  a pot  of  jewels.  I kill  no  woman ! 
Bystanders.  Oho!  you  murdered  her,  not  the  noble  Charudatta. 
Sansthanaka.  Who  shays  that? 

Bystanders.  [Pointing  to  Sthavaraka .]  This  honest  man. 
Sansthanaka.  [Fearfully.  Aside .]  Merciful  heavens!  Why  didn’t 
I chain  that  shlave  Sthavaraka  fasht?  Why,  he  was  a witnessh  of 
my  crime.  [He  reflects .]  I ’ll  do  it  thish  way.  [A  loud.]  Lies,  lies, 
good  gentlemen.  Why,  I caught  the  shlave  shtealing  gold,  and  I 
pounded  him,  and  murdered  him,  and  put  him  in  chains.  He  hates 
me.  What  he  shays  can’t  be  true.  [He  secretly  hands  Sthavaraka 
a bracelet,  and  whispers .]  Sthavaraka,  my  little  shon,  my  shlave, 
take  thish  and  shay  shomething  different. 

Sthavaraka.  [Takes  it.]  Look,  gentlemen,  look!  Why,  he  is  trying 
to  bribe  me  with  gold. 

Sansthanaka.  [Snatches  the  bracelet  from  him.]  That ’s  the  gold  that 
I put  him  in  chains  for.  [Angrily.]  Look  here,  headsmen!  I put 
him  in  charge  of  my  gold-chest,  and  when  he  turned  thief,  I mur- 
dered him  and  pounded  him.  If  you  don’t  believe  it,  jusht  look 
at  his  back. 

Headsmen.  [Doing  so.]  Yes,  yes.  When  a servant  is  branded  that 
way,  no  wonder  he  tells  tales. 

Sthavaraka.  A curse  on  slavery!  A slave  convinces  nobody. 
[31ournfully.]  Noble  Charudatta,  I have  no  further  power.  [He 
falls  at  Charudatta  s feet.] 

Charudatta.  [Mournfully.] 

Rise,  rise!  Kind  soul  to  good  men  fallen  on  pain! 

Brave  friend  who  lendest  such  unselfish  aid ! 


P.  270.15] 


THE  END 


163 


Thy  greatest  toil  to  save  me  was  in  vain, 

For  fate  would  not.  Thy  duty  now  is  paid.  31 

Headsmen.  Beat  your  servant,  master,  and  drive  him  away. 
Sansthanaka.  Out  of  the  way,  you!  [He  drives  Sthavaraka  away.] 
Come,  headsmen,  what  are  you  waiting  for?  Kill  him. 

Headsmen.  Kill  him  yourself,  if  you  are  in  a hurry. 

Rohasena.  Oh,  headsmen,  kill  me  and  let  father  go  free. 
Sansthanaka.  Yesh,  shon  and  father,  kill  them  both. 

Charudatta.  This  fool  might  do  anything.  Go,  my  son,  to  your 
mother. 

Rohasena.  And  what  should  I do  then  ? 

Charud.  Go  with  thy  mother  to  a hermitage; 

No  moment,  dear,  delay; 

Lest  of  thy  father’s  fault  thou  reap  the  wage, 

And  tread  the  selfsame  way.  32 

And  you,  my  friend,  go  with  him. 

Maitreya.  Oh,  my  friend,  have  you  so  known  me  as  to  think  that 
I can  live  without  you  ? 

Charudatta.  Not  so,  my  friend.  Your  life  is  your  own.  You  may 
not  throw  it  away. 

Maitreya.  [Aside.]  True.  And  yet  I cannot  live  apart  from  my 
friend.  And  so,  when  I have  taken  the  boy  to  his  mother,  I will 
follow  my  friend  even  in  death.  [Aloud.]  Yes,  my  friend,  I will 
take  him  to  her  at  once.  [He  embraces  Charudatta,  then  falls  at 
his  feet.  Rohasena  does  the  same,  weeping.] 

Sansthanaka.  Look  here ! Did  n’t  I tell  you  to  kill  Charudatta,  and 
his  shon,  too?  [At  this,  Charudatta  betrays  fear.] 

Headsmen.  W e have  n’t  any  orders  from  the  king  to  kill  Charu- 
datta, and  his  son,  too.  Run  away,  boy,  run  away!  [They  drive 
Rohasena  away.]  Here  is  the  third  place  of  proclamation.  Beat  the 
drum!  [They proclaim  the  sentence  again.] 


164 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[167.1  S. 


Sansthanaka.  [Aside.']  But  the  citizens  don’t  believe  it.  [Aloud.] 
Charudatta,  you  jackanapes,  the  citizens  don’t  believe  it.  Shay  it 
with  your  own  tongue,  “I  murdered  Vasantasena.”  [Charudatta  re- 
mains silent.]  Look  here,  headsmen!  The  man  won’t  shpeak,  the 
jackanapes  Charudatta.  Jusht  make  him  shpeak.  Beat  him  a few 
times  with  thish  ragged  bamboo,  or  with  a chain. 

Goha.  [Raises  his  arm  to  strike.]  Come,  Charudatta,  speak ! 
Charudatta.  [Mournfully.] 

Now  am  I sunk  so  deep  in  sorrow’s  sea, 

I know  no  fear,  I know  no  sadness  more; 

Yet  even  now  one  flame  still  tortures  me, 

That  men  should  say  I slew  whom  I adore.  33 
[Sansthanaka  repeats  his  words.] 

Charudatta.  Men  of  my  own  city! 

A scoundrel  I,  who  bear  the  blame, 

Nor  seek  in  heaven  to  be  blest; 

A maid — or  goddess — t is  the  same — 

But  he  will  say  the  rest.  (ix.  30) 

Sansthanaka.  Killed  her! 

Charudatta.  So  be  it. 

Goha.  It ’s  your  turn  to  kill  him,  man. 

Ahlnta.  No,  yours. 

Goha.  Well,  let ’s  reckon  it  out.  [He  does  so  at  great  length.]  Well, 
if  it ’s  my  turn  to  kill  him,  we  will  just  let  it  wait  a minute. 
Ahlnta.  Why? 

Goha.  Well,  when  my  father  was  going  to  heaven,  he  said  to  me, 
“ Son  Goha,  if  it  s your  turn  to  kill  him,  don’t  kill  the  sinner  too 
quick.” 

Ahlnta.  But  why? 

Goha.  “Perhaps,”  said  he,  “some  good  man  might  give  the  money 
to  set  him  free.  Perhaps  a son  might  be  born  to  the  king,  and  to 
celebrate  the  event,  all  the  prisoners  might  be  set  free.  Perhaps 


P.  274.8] 


THE  END 


1G5 


an  elephant  might  break  loose,  and  the  prisoner  might  escape  in 
the  excitement.  Perhaps  there  might  be  a change  of  kings,  and  all 
the  prisoners  might  be  set  free.” 

Sansthanaka.  What?  What?  A change  of  kings? 

Goha.  W ell,  let ’s  reckon  it  out,  whose  turn  it  is. 

Sansthanaka.  Oh,  come!  Kill  Charudatta  at  once.  [He  takes  Stha- 
varaka,  and  withdraws  a little .] 

Headsmen.  Noble  Charudatta,  it  is  the  king’s  commandment  that 
bears  the  blame,  not  we  headsmen.  Think  then  of  what  you  needs 
must  think. 

Charudatta.  Though  slandered  by  a cruel  fate, 

And  stained  by  men  of  high  estate, 

If  that  my  virtue  yet  regarded  be, 

Then  she  who  dwells  with  gods  above 
Or  wheresoever  else — my  love — 

By  her  sweet  nature  wipe  the  stain  from  me!  34 
Tell  me.  Whither  would  you  have  me  go? 

Goha.  [Pointing  ahead.]  Why,  here  is  the  southern  burying- 
ground,  and  when  a criminal  sees  that,  he  says  good-by  to  life  in 
a minute.  For  look! 

One  half  the  corpse  gaunt  jackals  rend  and  shake, 

And  ply  their  horrid  task; 

One  half  still  hangs  impaled  upon  the  stake, 

Loud  laughter’s  grinning  mask.  35 

Charudatta.  Alas!  Ah,  woe  is  me!  [In  his  agitation  he  sits  down.] 
Sansthanaka.  I won't  go  yet.  I ’ll  jusht  shee  Charudatta  killed.  [He 
walks  about,  gazing.]  Well,  well!  He  shat  down. 

Goha.  Are  you  frightened,  Charudatta? 

Charudatta.  [Rising  hastily.]  Fool! 

Death  have  I never  feared,  but  blackened  fame; 

My  death  were  welcome,  coming  free  from  shame, 

As  were  a son,  new-born  to  bear  my  name. 


(27) 


166 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[169.3  S. 


Goha.  Noble  Charudatta,  the  moon  and  the  sun  dwell  in  the  vault 
of  heaven,  yet  even  they  are  overtaken  by  disaster.  How  much 
more,  death-fearing  creatures,  and  men!  In  this  world,  one  rises 
only  to  fall,  another  falls  only  to  rise  again.  But  from  him  who  has 
risen  and  falls,  his  body  drops  like  a garment.  Lay  these  thoughts 
to  heart,  and  be  strong.  [To  Ahlnta.]  Here  is  the  fourth  place  of 
proclamation.  Let  us  proclaim  the  sentence.  [They  do  so  once 
again.] 

Charudatta.  Vasantasena!  Oh,  my  beloved! 

From  thy  dear  lips,  that  vied  with  coral’s  red, 

Betraying  teeth  more  bright  than  moonbeams  fair, 

My  soul  with  heaven’s  nectar  once  was  fed. 

How  can  I,  helpless,  taste  that  poison  dread, 

To  drink  shame’s  poisoned  cup  how  can  I bear?  (13) 

[Enter,  in  gi'eat  agitation,  Vasantasena  and  the  Buddhist  monk.] 
Monk.  Strange!  My  monkish  life  did  me  yeoman  service  when  it 
proved  necessary  to  comfort  Vasantasena,  so  untimely  wearied,  and 
to  lead  her  on  her  way.  Sister  in  Buddha,  whither  shall  I lead  you? 
Vasantasena.  To  the  noble  Charudatta’s  house.  Revive  me  with 
the  sight  of  him,  as  the  night-blooming  water-lily  is  revived  by 
the  sight  of  the  moon. 

Monk.  [Aside.]  By  which  road  shall  I enter?  [He  reflects.]  The 
king’s  highway — I’ll  enter  by  that.  Come,  sister  in  Buddha! 
Here  is  the  king’s  highway.  [Listening.]  But  what  is  this  great 
tumult  that  I hear  on  the  king’s  highway? 

Vasantasena.  [Looking  before  her.]  Why,  there  is  a great  crowd 
of  people  before  us.  Pray  find  out,  sir,  what  it  means.  All  Ujjayinl 
tips  to  one  side,  as  if  the  earth  bore  an  uneven  load. 

Goha.  And  here  is  the  last  place  of  proclamation.  Beat  the  drum! 
Proclaim  the  sentence!  [They  do  so.]  Now,  Charudatta,  wait! 
Don’t  be  frightened.  You  will  be  killed  very  quickly. 


P.  277.12] 


THE  END 


167 


Charudatta.  Ye  blessed  gods! 

Monk.  [ Listens . In  terror .]  Sister  in  Buddha,  Charudatta  is  being 
led  to  his  death  for  murdering  you. 

Vasantasena.  [In  terror. ] Alas!  For  my  wretched  sake  the  noble 
Charudatta  put  to  death  ? Quick,  quick ! Oh,  lead  me  thither ! 
Monk.  Hasten,  oh,  hasten,  sister  in  Buddha,  to  comfort  the  noble 
Charudatta  while  he  yet  lives.  Make  way,  gentlemen,  make  way ! 
Vasantasena.  Make  way,  make  way! 

Goha.  Noble  Charudatta,  it  is  the  king’s  commandment  that  bears 
the  blame.  Think  then  of  what  you  needs  must  think. 
Charudatta.  Why  waste  words? 

Though  slandered  by  a cruel  fate, 

And  stained  by  men  of  high  estate, 

If  that  my  virtue  yet  regarded  be, 

Then  she  who  dwells  with  gods  above 
Or  wheresoever  else — my  love — 

By  her  sweet  nature  wipe  the  stain  from  me!  (34) 
Goha.  [. Drawing  his  sword.]  Noble  Charudatta,  lie  flat  and  be 
quiet.  With  one  stroke  we  will  kill  you  and  send  you  to  heaven. 
[Charudatta  does  so.  Goha  raises  his  arm  to  strike.  The  sword  falls 
from  his  hand.]  What  is  this? 

I fiercely  grasped  within  my  hand 
My  thunderbolt-appalling  brand; 

Why  did  it  fall  upon  the  sand  ? 36 

But  since  it  did,  I conclude  that  the  noble  Charudatta  is  not  to 
die.  Have  mercy,  O mighty  goddess  of  the  Sahya  hills!  If  only 
Charudatta  might  be  saved,  then  hadst  thou  shown  favor  to  our 
headsman  caste. 

Ahinta.  Let  us  do  as  we  were  ordered. 

Goha.  Well,  let  us  do  it.  [They  make  ready  to  impale  Charudatta.] 


168 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[170.23  S. 


Charud.  Though  slandered  by  a cruel  fate, 

And  stained  by  men  of  high  estate, 

If  that  my  virtue  yet  regarded  be, 

Then  she  who  dwells  with  gods  above 
Or  wheresoever  else — my  love — 

By  her  sweet  nature  wipe  the  stain  from  me!  (34) 

Monk  and  Vasantasen  a.  [ Perceiving  what  is  being  done.]  Good 
gentlemen!  Hold,  hold! 

Vasantasena.  Good  gentlemen ! I am  the  wretch  for  whose  sake 
he  is  put  to  death. 

Goha.  [ Perceiving  her.] 

Who  is  the  woman  with  the  streaming  hair 

That  smites  her  shoulder,  loosened  from  its  bands  ? 

She  loudly  calls  upon  us  to  forbear, 

And  hastens  hither  with  uplifted  hands.  37 

Vasantasena.  Oh,  Charudatta!  What  does  it  mean?  [She  falls  on 
his  breast.  ] 

Monk.  Oh,  Charudatta!  What  does  it  mean?  [He  falls  at  his  feet.] 
Goha.  [Anxiously  withdrawing .]  Vasantasena? — At  least,  we  did 
not  kill  an  innocent  man. 

Monk.  [Rising.]  Thank  heaven ! Charudatta  lives. 

Goha.  And  shall  live  a hundred  years! 

Vasantasena.  [Joyfully.]  And  I too  am  brought  back  to  life  again. 
Goha.  The  king  is  at  the  place  of  sacrifice.  Let  us  report  to  him 
what  has  taken  place.  [The  two  headsmen  start  to  go  away.] 
Sansthanaka.  [Perceives  Vasantasena.  In  terror.]  Goodnessh ! who 
brought  the  shlave  back  to  life?  Thish  is  the  end  of  me.  Good! 
I ’ll  run  away.  [He  runs  away.] 

Goha.  [Returning.]  Well,  did  n’t  we  have  orders  from  the  king  to 
put  the  man  to  death  who  murdered  Vasantasena?  Let  us  hunt 
for  the  king’s  brother-in-law.  [Exeunt  the  tivo  headsmen. 


P.  281.1] 


THE  END 


109 


Charudatta.  [In  amazement .] 

Who  saves  me  from  the  uplifted  weapon’s  scorn, 

When  in  Death’s  jaws  I struggled  all  forlorn, 

A streaming  cloud  above  the  rainless  corn?  38 

[He  gazes  at  her.] 

Is  this  Vasantasena’s  counterfeit? 

Or  she  herself,  from  heaven  above  descended? 

Or  do  I but  in  madness  see  my  sweet? 

Or  has  her  precious  life  not  yet  been  ended  ? 39 

Or  again  : Did  she  return  from  heaven, 

That  I might  rescued  be  ? 

Was  her  form  to  another  given? 

Is  this  that  other  she?  40 

Vasantasena.  [Rises  tearfully  and  falls  at  kis  feet.]  O noble  Cha- 
rudatta, I am  indeed  the  wretch  for  whose  sake  you  are  fallen 
upon  this  unworthy  plight. 

Voices  behind  the  scenes.  A miracle,  a miracle ! Vasantasena  lives. 
[The  bystanders  repeat  the  words.] 

Charudatta.  [Listens,  then  rises  suddenly,  embraces  Vasantasena, 
and  closes  his  eyes.  In  a voice  trembling  with  emotion.]  My  love! 
You  are  Vasantasena! 

Vasantasena.  That  same  unhappy  woman. 

Charudatta.  [Gazes  upon  her.  Joyfully.]  Can  it  be?  Vasantasena 
herself?  [In  utter  happiness.] 

Her  bosom  bathed  in  streaming  tears, 

When  in  Death’s  power  I fell, 

Whence  is  she  come  to  slay  my  fears, 

Like  heavenly  magic’s  spell?  41 

Vasantasena!  Oh,  my  beloved! 

Unto  my  body,  whence  the  life  was  fleeting, 

And  all  for  thee,  thou  knewest  life  to  give. 

Oh,  magic  wonderful  in  lovers’  meeting! 

What  power  besides  could  make  the  dead  man  live?  42 


170 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[172.17  S. 


But  see,  my  beloved! 

My  blood-red  garment  seems  a bridegroom’s  cloak, 
Death’s  garland  seems  to  me  a bridal  wreath; 

My  love  is  near. 

And  marriage  music  seems  the  fatal  stroke 
Of  drums  that  heralded  my  instant  death ; 

For  she  is  here.  43 

Vasantasena.  You  with  your  utter  kindliness,  what  can  it  be  that 
you  have  done? 

Charudatta.  My  beloved,  he  said  that  1 had  killed  you. 

For  ancient  hatred’s  sake,  my  mighty  foe, 

Hell’s  victim  now,  had  almost  laid  me  low.  44 

Vasantasena.  [Stopping  her  ears.]  Heaven  avert  the  omen ! It  was 
he,  the  king’s  brother-in-law,  who  killed  me. 

Charudatta.  [. Perceiving  the  monk.']  But  who  is  this  ? 

Vasantasena.  When  that  unworthy  wretch  had  killed  me,  this 
worthy  man  brought  me  back  to  life. 

Charudatta.  Who  are  you,  unselfish  friend  ? 

Monk.  You  do  not  remember  me,  sir.  I am  that  shampooer,  who 
once  was  happy  to  rub  your  feet.  When  I fell  into  the  hands  of 
certain  gamblers,  this  sister  in  Buddha,  upon  hearing  that  I had 
been  your  servant,  bought  my  freedom  with  her  jewels.  There- 
upon I grew  tired  of  the  gambler’s  life,  and  became  a Buddhist 
monk.  Now  this  lady  made  a mistake  in  her  bullock-cart,  and  so 
came  to  the  old  garden  Pushpakaranda.  But  when  that  unworthy 
wretch  learned  that  she  would  not  love  him,  he  murdered  her  by 
strangling.  And  I found  her  there. 

Loud  voices  behind  the  scenes. 

Unending  victory  to  Shiva  be, 

Who  Daksha’s  offering  foiled; 

And  victory  may  Karttikeya  see. 

Who  Krauncha  smote  and  spoiled ; 


P.  283.11] 


THE  END 


171 


And  victory  to  Aryaka  the  king — 

His  mighty  foe  he  kills — 

Far  over  all  the  earth’s  expansive  ring, 

That  earth  her  joyous  flag  abroad  may  fling, 

The  snowy  banner  of  Kailasa’s  hills.  45 

[ Enter  hurriedly  Sharvilaka .] 

Sharv.  Yes,  Palaka,  the  royal  wretch,  I slew, 

Anointing  Aryaka  good  king  and  true ; 

And  now,  like  sacrificial  flowers,  I wed 
The  king’s  commandment  to  my  bended  head, 

To  give  sad  Charudatta  life  anew.  46 

The  foe  whose  powers  and  friends  had  fled,  he  slew, 
Consoled  and  comforted  his  subjects  true; 

And  earth’s  broad  sovereignty  has  gladly  wed 
His  power,  and  bent  to  him  her  lowly  head, 

Who  toward  his  foe  plays  Indra’s  part  anew.  47 

[He  looks  before  him.']  Ah!  There  he  will  be  found,  where  the 
people  are  thus  gathered  together.  Oh,  that  this  deed  of  King 
Aryaka  might  be  crowned  with  the  rescued  life  of  noble  Charu- 
datta ! [He  quickens  his  steps.]  Make  way,  you  rascals ! [He  discovers 
Charudatta.  Joyfully.]  Is  Charudatta  yet  living,  and  Vasantasena? 
Truly,  our  sovereign’s  wishes  are  fulfilled. 

Now,  thanks  to  heaven,  from  sorrow’s  shoreless  sea 
I see  him  saved  by  her  he  loved,  set  free 
By  that  sweet  bark,  that  knew  her  course  to  steer 
With  virtue’s  tackle  and  with  goodness’  gear. 

He  seems  the  moon,  whose  light  shines  clear  at  last. 
When  all  the  sad  eclipse  is  overpast.  48 

Yet  how  shall  I approach  him,  who  have  so  grievously  sinned 
against  him?  But  no!  Honesty  is  always  honorable.  [He  ap- 
proaches and  folds  his  hands.  Aloud.]  O noble  Charudatta! 
Charudatta.  Who  are  you,  sir? 


172  ACT  THE  TENTH  [miss. 

Sharvilaka.  I forced  your  house  in  manner  base, 

And  stole  the  gems  there  left  behind; 

But  though  this  sin  oppress  my  mind, 

I throw  myself  upon  your  grace.  49 

Charudatta.  Not  so,  my  friend.  Thereby  you  showed  your  faith 
in  me.  [He  embraces  him .] 

Sharvilaka.  And  one  thing  more: 

The  very  noble  Aryaka, 

To  save  his  family  and  name, 

Has  slain  the  wretched  Palaka, 

A victim  at  the  altar’s  flame.  50 

Charudatta.  What  say  you? 

Sharvilaka.  ’T  was  your  cart  helped  him  on  his  way, 

Who  sought  the  shelter  of  your  name ; 

He  slew  King  Palaka  to-day, 

A victim  at  the  altar’s  flame.  51 

Charudatta.  Sharvilaka,  did  you  set  free  that  Aryaka,  whom  Pa- 
laka took  from  his  hamlet, and  confined  without  cause  in  the  tower? 
Sharvilaka.  I did. 

Charudatta.  This  is  indeed  most  welcome  tidings. 

Sharvilaka.  Scarcely  was  your  friend  Aryaka  established  in  Ujja- 
yinl,  when  he  bestowed  upon  you  the  throne  of  Kushavati,  on 
the  bank  of  the  Vena.  May  you  graciously  receive  this  first  token 
of  his  love.  [He  turns  around .]  Come,  lead  hither  that  rascal,  that 
villain,  the  brother-in-law  of  the  king! 

Voices  behind  the  scenes.  We  will,  Sharvilaka. 

Sharvilaka.  Sir,  King  Aryaka  declares  that  he  won  this  kingdom 
through  your  virtues,  and  that  you  are  therefore  to  have  some 
benefit  from  it. 

Charudatta.  The  kingdom  won  through  my  virtues? 

Voices  behind  the  scenes.  Come  on,  brother-in-law  of  the  king,  and 


THE  END 


P.  285.18] 


173 


reap  the  reward  of  your  insolence.  [Enter  Sansthanaka,  guarded , 
with  his  hands  tied  behind  his  back.] 

Sansthanaka.  Goodnessh  gracious! 

It  came  to  pass,  I ran  away 
Like  any  ass,  and  had  my  day. 

They  drag  me  round,  a prishoner, 

As  if  they ’d  found  a naughty  cur.  52 

[He  looks  about  him.]  They  crowd  around  me,  though  I ’m  a rela- 
tive of  the  king’s.  To  whom  shall  I go  for  help  in  my  helplessh- 
nessh  ? [He  reflects.]  Good ! I ’ll  go  to  the  man  who  gives  help  and 
shows  mercy  to  the  shuppliant.  [He  approaches.]  Noble  Charu- 
datta,  protect  me,  protect  me ! [He  falls  at  Ms  feet.] 

Voices  behind  the  scenes.  Noble  Charudatta,  leave  him  to  us!  let 
us  kill  him ! 

Sansthanaka.  [To  Charudatta.]  O helper  of  the  helplessh,  protect 
me! 

Charudatta.  [Mercifully.]  Yes,  yes.  He  who  seeks  protection  shall 
be  safe. 

Sharvilaka.  [Impatiently.]  Confound  him!  Take  him  away  from 
Charudatta!  [To  Charudatta.]  Tell  me.  What  shall  be  done  with 
the  wretch? 

Shall  he  be  bound  and  dragged  until  he  dies? 

Shall  dogs  devour  the  scoundrel  as  he  lies  ? 

If  he  should  be  impaled,  ’t  would  be  no  blunder, 

Nor  if  we  had  the  rascal  sawn  asunder.  53 

Charudatta.  Will  you  do  as  I say? 

Sharvilaka.  How  can  you  doubt  it? 

Sansthanaka.  Charudatta ! Mashter ! I sheek  your  protection.  Pro- 
tect me,  protect  me ! Do  shomething  worthy  of  yourshelf.  I ’ll 
never  do  it  again! 

Voices  of  citizens  behind  the  scenes.  Kill  him!  Why  should  the 
wretch  be  allowed  to  live? 


174 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[176.8  S. 


[ Vasantasena  takes  the  garland  of  death  from  Charudatta' s neck, 
and  throws  it  upon  Sansthanaka.^ 

Sansthanaka.  You  shlave- wench,  be  merciful,  be  merciful!  I’ll 
never  murder  you  again.  Protect  me ! 

Sharvilaka.  Come,  take  him  away!  Noble  Charudatta,  say  wrhat 
shall  be  done  with  the  wretch. 

Charudatta.  Will  you  do  as  I say? 

Sharvilaka.  How  can  you  doubt  it? 

Charudatta.  Really? 

Sharvilaka.  Really. 

Charudatta.  Then  let  him  be  immediately — 

Sharvilaka.  Killed? 

Charudatta.  No,  no ! Set  free. 

Sharvilaka.  What  for? 

Charud.  The  humbled  foe  who  seeks  thine  aid, 

Thou  mayst  not  smite  with  steely  blade — 
Sharvilaka.  All  right.  We  will  have  the  dogs  eat  him  alive. 
Charudatta.  No,  no! 

Be  cruelty  with  kindness  paid.  54 

Sharvilaka.  Wonderful!  What  shall  I do?  Tell  me,  sir. 
Charudatta.  Why,  set  him  free. 

Sharvilaka.  It  shall  be  done. 

Sansthanaka.  Hooray ! I breathe  again.  [Exit,  with  the  guards. 
Sharvilaka.  Mistress  Vasantasena,  the  king  is  pleased  to  bestow 
upon  you  the  title  “wedded  wife.” 

Vasantasena.  Sir,  I desire  no  more. 

Sharvilaka.  [Places  the  veil 1 upon  Vasantasena.  To  Charudatta .] 
Sir,  what  shall  be  done  for  this  monk  ? 

Charudatta.  Monk,  what  do  you  most  desire? 

Monk.  When  I see  this  example  of  the  uncertainty  of  all  things, 

1 A token  of  honorable  marriage.  Compare  page  66. 


P.  292.16] 


THE  END 


175 


I am  twice  content  to  be  a monk. 

Charudatta.  His  purpose  is  not  to  be  changed,  my  friend.  Let  him 
be  appointed  spiritual  father  over  all  the  monasteries  in  the  land. 
Sharvilaka.  It  shall  be  done. 

Monk . It  is  all  that  I desire. 

Vasantasena.  Now  I am  indeed  brought  back  to  life. 

Sharvilaka.  What  shall  be  done  for  Sthavaraka  ? 

Charudatta.  Let  the  good  fellow  be  given  his  freedom.  Let  those 
headsmen  be  appointed  chiefs  of  all  the  headsmen.  Let  Chandanaka 
be  appointed  chief  of  all  the  police  in  the  land.  Let  the  brother- 
in-law  of  the  king  continue  to  act  exactly  as  he  acted  in  the  past. 
Sharvilaka.  It  shall  be  done.  Only  that  man — leave  him  to  me, 
and  I ’ll  kill  him. 

Charudatta.  He  who  seeks  protection  shall  be  safe. 

The  humbled  foe  who  seeks  thine  aid, 

Thou  mayst  not  smite  with  steely  blade. 

Be  cruelty  with  kindness  paid.  (54) 

Sharvilaka.  Then  tell  me  what  I may  yet  do  for  you. 

Charudatta.  Can  there  be  more  than  this? 

I kept  unstained  my  virtue’s  even  worth, 

Granted  my  enemy  his  abject  suit; 

Friend  Aryaka  destroyed  his  foeman’s  root, 

And  rules  a king  o’er  all  the  steadfast  earth. 

This  dear-loved  maiden  is  at  last  mine  own. 

And  you  united  with  me  as  a friend. 

And  shall  I ask  for  further  mercies,  shown 

To  me,  who  cannot  sound  these  mercies’  end?  58 

Fate  plays  with  us  like  buckets  at  the  well. 

Where  one  is  filled,  and  one  an  empty  shell, 

Where  one  is  rising,  while  another  falls ; 

And  shows  how  life  is  change — now  heaven,  now  hell.  59 
Yet  may  the  wishes  of  our  epilogue  be  fulfilled. 


176 


ACT  THE  TENTH 


[178.9  S. 


EPILOGUE 

May  kine  yield  streaming  milk,  the  earth  her  grain, 
And  may  the  heaven  give  never-failing  rain, 

The  winds  waft  happiness  to  all  that  breathes, 

And  all  that  lives,  live  free  from  every  pain. 

In  paths  of  righteousness  may  Brahmans  tread, 

And  high  esteem  their  high  deserving  wed ; 

May  kings  in  justice’  ways  be  ever  led, 

And  earth,  submissive,  bend  her  grateful  head. 


60 


[. Exeunt  omnes.~\ 


A LIST  OF  PASSAGES 

IN  WHICH  THE  TRANSLATION  DEPARTS  FROM  PARAB’S  TEXT 


35.15 : Here  nirmitah  is  apparently  a mere  misprint  for  nirjitah. 

4)5.11  : The  addition  of  utthedha  tti  seems  almost  necessary. 

53.10;  54.9;  55.11;  62.7;  66.7  : In  these  passages  I have  substituted  “sham- 
pooer”  for  “gambler,”  to  prevent  confusion  of  the  shampooer  with  the  un- 
named gambler. 

57.13 : I have  added  the  stage-direction  dyutakaramandaDm  krtva. 

67.5  : Read  kam  for  kim. 

72.9  : Read  ajjo  bandhuanam  samassasidum  for  Parab’s  ajja  bandhuano  samas- 
sasadu. 

73.5  : We  should  probably  read  blhaccham  ( bibhatsam ) for  vihattham. 

87.3  : The  words  cikitsarn  krtva  seem  to  be  part  of  the  text,  not  of  the  stage- 
direction. 

97.13  : I regard  nayasya  as  one  word,  not  two  (na  yasya). 

100.12  : Read  raksdn  for  raksydn. 

114.5  : Read  iiaaranari - for  narandrl-. 

125.8-11  : These  lines  I have  omitted. 

126.4  : Read  accharla-  (of carya-)  for  accharldi-. 

170.8  : Read  eka-  for  ekd-. 

178.11  : Read  vaddhamanao  for  vaddhamanaa. 

184.9  : Read  a ( ca ) for  ka. 

217.15 : Whatever  favodiam  may  be,  I have  translated  it  in  accordance  with 
Lalladiksita’s  gloss,  savestikam. 

226.2  : Apparently  khala-  is  a misprint  for  khana-. 

238.10  : Read  -ruciram  for  -racitam. 

259.16  : Read  udviksya  for  udvijya. 

262.4  ; Read  -bhajanam  for  -bhojanam. 

262.14:  Read  padicchidam  ( pratistam ) for  padicchidum. 

265.6  : Read  tvaya  for  may  a. 

284.14  : The  words  atha  va  plainly  belong  to  the  text,  not  to  the  stage-direction. 

287.2  : I take  panrah  as  part  of  the  stage-direction. 

288.3—292.9 : This  passage  I have  omitted:  compare  page  xii. 


Harvard  Oriental  Series 


EDITED,  WITH  THE  COOPERATION  OF  VARIOUS  SCHOLARS,  BY 
CHARLES  ROCKWELL  LANMAN 

PROFESSOR  OF  SANSKRIT  IN  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 

Published  by  Harvard  University,  Cambridge,  Massachusetts 

United  States  of  America 

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Volume  I. — The  Jataka-mala:  or  Bodhisattva-avadana-mala,  by 
Arya-^ura;  edited  by  Hendrik  Kern,  Professor  in  the  University  of  Leiden, 
Netherlands.  1891.  Royal  8vo,  bound  in  cloth,  xiv-f  254  pages,  price  $1.50. 

This  is  the  editio  princeps  of  a collection  of  Buddhist  stories  in  Sanskrit.  The  text  is  printed  in 
N agar!  characters.  An  English  translation  of  this  work,  by  Professor  Speyer,  has  been  pub- 
lished in  Professor  Max  Muller’s  Sacred  Books  of  the  Buddhists,  London,  Henry  Frowde,  1895. 

Volume  II. — The  Samkhya-pravacana-bhasya:  or  Commentary 
on  the  exposition  of  the  Sankhya  philosophy,  by  Vijnana-bhiksu : edited  by 
Richard  Garbe,  Professor  in  the  University  of  Tubingen.  1895.  Royal  8vo, 
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This  volume  contains  the  original  Sanskrit  text  of  the  Sankhya  Aphorisms  and  of  Vijnana’s 
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cepting the  atheistic  doctrine  of  the  original  Sankhya,  here  comes  out  as  a defender  of  down- 
right theism.  A German  translation  of  the  whole  work  was  published  by  Professor  Garbe  in 
the  Abhandlungen  f Hr  die  Kunde  des  Morgenlandes , vol.  ix.,  Leipzig,  Brockhaus,  1889.  “In 
spite  of  all  the  false  assumptions  and  the  errors  of  which  Vijnana-bhiksu  is  undoubtedly  guilty, 
his  Commentary  ...  is  after  all  the  one  and  only  work  which  instructs  us  concerning  many 
particulars  of  the  doctrines  of  what  is,  in  my  estimation,  the  most  significant  system  of  phi- 
losophy that  India  has  produced.” — Editor's  Preface. 

Volume  III.  — Buddhism  in  Translations.  By  Henry  Clarke 
Warren.  1896.  8vo,  buckram,  xx-f  520  pages,  price  $1.20. 

This  is  a series  of  extracts  from  Pali  writings,  done  into  English,  and  so  arranged  as  to  give 
a general  idea  of  Ceylonese  Buddhism.  The  work  consists  of  over  a hundred  selections,  com- 
prised in  five  chapters  of  about  one  hundred  pages  each.  Of  these,  chapters  ii.,  iii.,  and  iv.  are 

[ 1 1 


on  Buddhist  doctrine,  and  concern  themselves  respectively  with  the  philosophical  conceptions 
that  underlie  the  Buddhist  religious  system,  with  the  doctrine  of  Karma  and  rebirth,  and  with 
the  scheme  of  salvation  from  misery.  Chapter  i.  gives  the  account  of  the  previous  existences 
of  Gotama  Buddha  and  of  his  life  in  the  last  existence  up  to  the  attainment  of  Buddhaship ; 
while  the  sections  of  chapter  v.  are  about  Buddhist  monastic  life. 

Volume  IV. — Raja-^ekhara’s  Karpura-manjari,  a drama  by  the 
Indian  poet  Raja-^ekhara  (about  900  a.d.):  critically  edited  in  the  original 
Prakrit,  with  a glossarial  index  and  an  essay  on  the  life  and  writings  of  the 
poet,  by  Dr.  Stex  Konow,  of  the  University  of  Christiania,  Norway;  and  trans- 
lated into  English  with  notes  by  Professor  Laxmax.  1901.  Royal  8vo,  buck- 
ram, xxviii  + 289  pages,  price  SI. 50. 

Here  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  Indian  philology  we  have  the  text  of  a Prakrit  play 
presented  to  us  in  strictly  correct  Prakrit.  Dr.  Konow  is  a pupil  of  Professor  Pischel  of  Berlin, 
whose  Prakrit  grammar  has  made  his  authority  upon  this  subject  of  the  very  highest.  The 
proofs  have  had  the  benefit  of  Professor  Pischel’s  revision.  The  importance  of  the  play  is  pri- 
marily linguistic  rather  than  literary. 

Volumes  V.  and  VI. — The  Brhad-Devata,  attributed  to  ^aunaka, 

a summary  of  the  deities  and  myths  of  the  Rig- Veda:  critically  edited  in  the 
original  Sanskrit  with  an  introduction  and  seven  appendices,  and  translated 
into  English  with  critical  and  illustrative  notes,  by  Arthur  A.  Macdoxell, 
Boden  Professor  of  Sanskrit  in  the  University  of  Oxford,  and  Fellow  of  Balliol 
College.  1904.  Royal  8vo,  buckram,  xxxvi  + 198  andxvi-f  334  pages,  price  per 
volume  SI. 50. 

Volume  V.  (or  Part  I.)  contains  the  introduction  and  text  and  appendices.  Volume  VI.  (or  Part 
II.)  contains  the  translation  and  notes.  The  arrangement  of  the  material  in  two  volumes  is  such 
that  the  student  can  have  the  text  of  any  given  passage,  together  with  the  translation  of  that 
passage  and  the  critical  apparatus  and  the  illustrative  notes  thereto  appurtenant,  all  opened 
out  before  his  eyes  at  one  time,  without  having  constantly  to  turn  from  one  part  of  the  volume 
to  another,  as  is  necessary  with  the  usual  arrangement  of  such  matter. 

Volumes  VII.  and  VIII. — Atharva-Veda  Samhita,  translated, 

with  a critical  and  exegetical  commentary,  by  William  Dwight  Whitxey,  late 
Professor  of  Sanskrit  in  Yale  University.  Revised  and  brought  nearer  to  com- 
pletion and  edited  bv  Charles  Rockwell  Laxmax,  Professor  of  Sanskrit  in 
Harvard  University.  1905.  Royal  8vo,  buckram,  clxii  + 1044  ( = 1206)  pages, 
price  of  the  two  volumes  $5.00. 

This  work  includes,  in  the  first  place,  critical  notes  upon  the  text,  giving  the  various  readings 
of  the  manuscripts,  and  not  alone  of  those  collated  by  Whitney  in  Europe,  but  also  of  those 
of  the  apparatus  used  by  S.  P.  Pandit  in  the  great  Bombay  edition.  Second,  the  readings  of 
the  Paippalada  or  Cashmere  version,  furnished  by  the  late  Professor  Roth.  Further,  notice  of 
the  corresponding  passages  in  all  the  other  Vedic  texts,  with  report  of  the  various  readings. 
Further,  the  data  of  the  Hindu  scholiast  respecting  authorship,  divinity,  and  meter  of  each 
verse.  Also,  references  to  the  ancillary  literature,  especially  to  the  well-edited  Kaucjika  and 
Vaitana  Sutras,  with  account  of  the  ritualistic  use  therein  made  of  the  hymns  or  parts  of  hymns, 
so  far  as  this  appears  to  cast  any  light  upon  their  meaning.  Also,  extracts  from  the  printed 
commentary.  And,  finally,  a simple  literal  translation,  with  introduction  and  indices.  Prefixed 
to  the  work  proper  is  an  elaborate  critical  and  historical  introduction. 


Volume  IX.  — The  Little  Clay  Cart  (Mrcchakatika),  a Hindu 

drama  attributed  to  King  Shudraka,  translated  from  the  original  Sanskrit  and 
Prakrits  into  English  prose  and  verse  by  Arthur  William  Ryder,  Ph.  D., 
Instructor  in  Sanskrit  in  Harvard  University.  1905.  Royal  8vo,  buckram,  xxx 
+ 177  pages,  price  $1.50. 

Volume  X.  — A Vedic  Concordance:  being  an  alphabetic  index 

to  every  line  of  every  stanza  of  every  hymn  of  the  published  Vedic  literature, 

and  to  every  sacrificial  and  ritual  formula  thereof.  By  Maurice  Bloomfield, 

Professor  of  Sanskrit  and  Comparative  Philology  in  Johns  Hopkins  University. 

The  work,  with  which  Bloomfield  has  been  busy  for  over  a dozen  years,  will  form  a royal 
quarto  of  about  1100  pages.  Of  these,  fully  800  are  already  printed  (June,  1905);  the  com- 
pletely revised  manuscript  of  the  remainder  is  at  the  press ; and  it  is  hoped  that  the  printing 
will  be  finished  soon  after  Jan.  1,  1906.  For  an  account  of  the  work,  see  the  last  page  of  vol.  iv. 
of  this  Series.  The  Concordance  will  serve  as  a register  of  the  varietas  lectionis  for  the  texts 
of  the  Vedic  literature,  and  thus  prove  to  be  an  auxiliary  of  the  very  first  importance  in  the 
work  of  making  new  editions  of  the  Vedic  texts ; and  many  subsidiary  uses  of  Bloomfield’s  col- 
lections will  suggest  themselves  to  scholars. 

In  Preparation 

No  promise  of  a definite  time  for  the  completion  and  appearance  of  any  of  the  following 
works  will  under  any  circumstances  be  given;  they  are  nevertheless  in  such  a state  of  ad- 
vancement that  some  public  announcement  concerning  them  may  properly  be  made. 


Buddha-ghosa’s  Way  of  Purity  ( Visuddhi-magga ),  a systematic 
treatise  of  Buddhist  doctrine  by  Buddha-ghosa  (about  400  a.  d.):  critically 
edited  in  the  original  Pali  by  the  late  Henry  Clarke  Warren,  of  Cambridge, 
Massachusetts. 

The  “Way  of  Purity,”  which  has  been  for  fifteen  centuries  one  of  the  “books  of  power”  in 
the  East,  is,  as  Childers  says,  “ a truly  great  work,  written  in  terse  and  lucid  language,  and  show- 
ing a marvelous  grasp  of  the  subject.”  Mr.  Warren  published  an  elaborate  analysis  of  the  en- 
tire treatise  in  the  Journal  of  the  Pali  Text  Society  for  1891-93,  pages  76-164.  His  plan  was  to 
issue  a scholarly  edition  of  the  Pali  text  of  the  work,  with  full  but  well-sifted  critical  apparatus, 
a complete  English  translation,  an  index  of  names,  and  other  useful  appendices,  and  to  trace 
back  to  their  sources  all  the  quotations  which  Buddha-ghosa  constantly  makes  from  the  writ- 
ings of  his  predecessors.  The  text,  it  is  hoped,  may  be  published  without  too  much  further 
labor  on  the  part  of  the  editor  of  the  Series. 

Mr.  Warren  died  in  January,  1899,  in  the  forty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  Accounts  of  his  life  and 
work  may  be  found  in  the  (New  York)  Nation  for  Jan.  12,  1899;  in  the  Harvard  Graduates' 
Magazine  for  March,  1899 ; in  the  Journal  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society  for  April,  1899  (with  a 
list  of  his  writings) ; in  the  (Chicago)  Open  Court  for  June,  1899  ; or  in  the  Journal  of  the  Amer- 
ican Oriental  Society,  vol.  xx.,  second  half. 

Buddha-ghosa’s  Way  of  Purity,  a systematic  treatise  of  Buddhist 
doctrine,  translated  into  English  from  the  original  Pali  of  H.  C.  Warren’s 
edition,  by  the  late  Henry  Clarke  Warren  and  Charles  Rockwell  Lanman. 
Mr.  Warren  had  made  a large  part  (about  one  third)  of  the  translation.  With  this  part  as  a 


help  and  guide,  the  editor  of  the  Series  hopes  to  complete  the  version  and  to  publish  it  as  soon 
as  is  feasible.  The  text  and  translation  will  perhaps  take  three  or  four  volumes. 

The  Pancha-tantra,  according  to  the  recension  of  the  Jaina  monk 
Purna-bhadra  (about  1200  a.d.),  critically  edited  in  the  original  Sanskrit  bv 
Dr.  Johannes  Hertel,  of  the  Royal  Gymnasium  of  Doebeln  in  Saxony,  and 
Dr.  Richard  Schmidt,  of  the  University  of  Halle. 

The  basis  of  Doctor  Schmidt’s  excellent  version  of  the  Pancha-tantra  was  a text  prepared  by 
him  from  several  European  manuscripts.  In  the  meantime,  Doctor  Hertel  has  procured  a very 
large  amount  of  manuscript  material  from  India,  chiefly  from  Poona,  has  subjected  the  same 
to  searching  critical  study,  and  is  embodying  his  results,  so  far  as  they  concern  the  actual 
readings,  in  a thorough  revision  of  the  printer’s  copy  of  the  text.  The  other  results  of  his 
labors  have  been  published  in  several  periodicals,  especially  the  Berichte  der  Kon.  Sdchsischen 
Gesellschaft  der  Wissenschaften  for  April,  1902,  and  in  recent  volumes  of  the  Zeitschrift  der 
Deutschen  Morgenlandischen  Gesellschaft  (Ivi.,  lvii.,  lviii.,  lix.).  The  Cjarada-MS.,  numbered  viii. 
145  in  the  Catalogue  of  the  Deccan  College  MSS.  and  containing  the  Tantra-akhyayika  or 
Kashmirian  recension  of  the  Pancha-tantra,  has  proved  to  be  of  such  great  importance  for 
the  history  of  this  branch  of  Sanskrit  literature  that  Doctor  Hertel  has  published  it  ( Abhand - 
lungen  of  the  Saxon  Society,  vol.  xxii.,  1904),  not  as  a definitive  text-edition,  but  as  part  of 
a literary-historical  investigation  and  as  one  of  the  essential  preliminaries  for  the  edition  of 
Purna-bhadra’s  recension  to  be  issued  in  the  Harvard  Series.  It  appears  that  the  last-named 
recension  is  a fusion  of  the  Tantra-akhyayika  and  the  so-called  Textus  Simplicior  of  the  Pancha- 
tantra. 

The  Pancha-tantra,  translated  into  English  from  the  original 
Sanskrit  of  the  recension  of  Purna-bhadra,  by  Paul  Elmer  More,  sometime 
Assistant  in  Sanskrit  in  Harvard  University,  now  of  the  Editorial  Staff  of  the 
New  York  Evening  Post. 

This  version,  prepared  several  years  ago  from  Doctor  Schmidt’s  manuscript  copy  by  Mr.  More, 
has  yet  to  be  so  revised  as  to  bring  it  into  conformity  with  the  meantime  thoroughly  revised 
text  of  Purna-bhadra’s  recension.  Apart  from  the  intrinsic  interest  and  merit  of  the  stories  of 
which  the  Pancha-tantra  consists,  this  translation  makes  an  especial  appeal  to  students  of 
Indian  antiquities,  of  folk-lore,  and  of  the  history  of  popular  tales. 

History  of  the  Beast-fable  of  India,  with  especial  reference  to  the 
Pancha-tantra  and  to  the  related  literature  of  Southwestern  Asia  and  of  Me- 
dieval Europe,  bv  Dr.  Johannes  Hertel  of  the  Royal  Gymnasium  of  Doebeln 
in  Saxony. 

Although  this  volume  is  primarily  designed  to  be  an  introduction  to  Purna-bhadra’s  Pancha- 
tantra,  its  scope  is  nevertheless  such  that  it  may  with  propriety  be  entitled  a History  of  the 
Beast-fable  of  India.  The  definitive  arrangement  of  the  material  is  not  yet  settled,  but  the  gen- 
eral plan  may  be  given  under  six  headings. 

I.  Brief  outline  of  the  incidents  of  each  story,  together  ■with  a reference  for  each  story  to  its 
precise  place  in  the  original  Sanskrit  text,  the  method  of  citation  to  be  such  that  the  same 
reference  will  apply  with  equal  facility  to  either  the  text  or  the  translation  or  the  apparatus 
criticus  or  the  commentary. 

II.  Tabular  conspectus  of  strophes  and  stories  contained  in  forms  of  the  Pancha-tantra 
anterior  to  Purna-bhadra. 

III.  Apparatus  criticus.  1.  Account  of  the  MSS.  collated.  2.  A piece  of  the  text  printed  in 
several  parallel  forms  side  by  side  (Tantra-akhyayika,  Simplicior,  Ornatior)  as  a specimen, 
to  illustrate  the  relative  value  of  the  several  MSS.  and  Purna-bhadra’s  way  of  constructing  his 
recension.  3.  Readings  of  the  MSS.  Bh,  bh,  A,  P,  p,  etc. 

[ ^ ] 


IV.  Introduction  to  the  text  of  Purna-bhadra.  A.  First  part,  extending  to  the  death,  in  1881, 
of  Benfey.  1.  Editions:  Kosegarten’s  ; Kielhorn-Biihler’s ; other  Indian  editions.  2.  Transla- 
tions: of  Benfey,  Lancereau,  Pavolini,  Fritze,  Galanos.  3.  Semitic  recensions  and  their  effluxes. 
4.  Benfey 's  results  as  contained  in  his  Pantscliatantra  of  1859  and  his  Introduction  to  Bickell’s 
Old  Syriac  Kalilag  und  Damnatj  of  1876.  B.  Second  part,  from  the  death  of  Benfey.  5.  Bibli- 
ography of  the  various  treatises.  6.  History  of  the  Sanskrit  Pancha-tantra.  Form,  age,  and  name 
of  the  original  Pancha-tantra.  7.  The  Brahmanical  recensions  of  the  work:  Gunadhya,  Nepa- 
lese fragment,  etc.;  Tantra-akhyayika;  Southern  Pancha-tantra.  8.  Jaina  recensions:  so-called 
Simplicior,  its  age,  etc.';  so-called  Ornatior,  author,  age,  etc.;  Megha-vijaya ; later  recensions; 
mixed  recensions.  9.  Buddhist  recension,  Tantra-akhyana. 

V.  Notes  to  the  several  stories  of  Purna-bhadra’s  text.  Parallels  in  the  Jataka,  etc.  Refer- 
ences to  Benfey. 

VI.  Indices.  1.  Of  names.  2.  Of  things.  3.  Of  verses.  4.  Of  meters. 

The  (^akuntala,  a Hindu  drama  by  Kalidasa : the  Bengali  recension 
critically  edited  in  the  original  Sanskrit  and  Prakrits  by  Richard  Pischel, 
Professor  of  Sanskrit  in  the  University  of  Berlin. 

Thirty  years  ago  Pischel  made  his  first  edition  of  this  master-piece  of  the  Hindu  drama.  Mean- 
time he  has  published,  as  a very  important  part  of  the  Biihler-Kielhorn  Grundriss  der  Indo- 
Arischen  Philologie , his  elaborate  Grammatik  der  Prakrit  Sprachen.  In  the  way  of  experience 
and  study,  therefore,  his  equipment  as  an  editor  of  this  play  is  peculiarly  complete.  As  for  the 
externals  of  paper  and  print  and  binding,  it  is  intended  that  this  edition  shall  be  got  up  in  a 
manner  to  correspond  with  its  scholarly  character  and  with  the  intrinsic  merit  of  the  play;  and 
it  is  to  be  sold  at  a very  moderate  price. 

The  (^akuntala,  translated  into  English  from  the  edition  of  Pro- 
fessor Pischel,  with  an  exegetical  and  illustrative  commentary,  by  Arthur  Wil- 
liam Ryder. 

Whereas  Dr.  Ryder’s  version  of  The  Little  Clay  Cart  (vol.  ix.  of  this  Series)  was  primarily  a 
literary  one  and  aimed  to  avoid  technicalities,  his  work  upon  the  Qakuntala  is  primarily  philo- 
logical, and  of  it  the  technical  commentary  is  an  essential  part.  In  this  comment  he  hopes  to 
include  the  most  or  all  that  is  of  substantive  importance  in  the  observations  of  his  predecessors 
whether  Occidental  or  Hindu ; to  treat  the  relation  of  the  subject-matter  of  the  play  to  the 
older  forms  thereof  as  seen  in  the  Epos  and  the  J ataka ; to  bring  out  the  double  meanings  and 
the  various  other  Hindu  “embellishments”  of  the  play;  to  note  the  parallelisms  in  poetic 
thought  or  diction  or  technique  between  the  Qakuntala  and  the  other  works  of  Kalidasa  and 
of  the  Indian  literature ; to  illustrate  the  allusions  to  the  mythology  and  antiquities  of  India  by 
citations  translated  from  the  best  native  authorities ; to  show,  throughout,  the  relation  of  this 
play  as  a work  of  art  to  the  Hindu  canons  of  dramaturgy ; and  at  least  to  assemble  the  data 
for  the  solution  of  the  important  critical  question  whether  the  (^akuntala  may  not  have  served 
as  the  model  play  upon  which  the  earlier  of  those  canons  were  based. 

The  Commentary  (Yoga-bhashya)  on  Patahjali’s  aphorisms  of  the 
Yoga  philosophy,  translated  from  the  original  Sanskrit  into  English,  with  in- 
dices of  quotations  and  of  philosophical  terms,  by  Dr.  James  Haughton  Woods, 
Instructor  in  Philosophy  in  Harvard  University. 

Of  the  six  great  philosophical  systems  of  India,  we  can  hardly  say  that  more  than  two,  the 
Sankhya  and  the  Vedanta,  have  been  made  accessible  to  Occidental  students  by  translations 
of  authoritative  Sanskrit  works.  For  Shankara’s  Comment  on  the  aphorisms  of  the  Vedanta 
system,  we  have  Deussen’s  translation  into  German  and  Thibaut’s  into  English.  For  the  San- 
khya, we  are  indebted  to  the  labors  of  Wilson  and  Garbe  and  Ganganath  Jha  for  versions  of 
the  Karika  and  of  the  Tattva-kaumudT.  The  Yoga  system  is  confessedly  next  in  importance  ; 
and  the  Yoga-bhashya,  ascribed  to  Vyasa,  is  the  best  and  most  thorough  exposition  of  its  fun- 

1 5 ] 


damental  doctrines.  It  is  also  the  oldest ; Garbe  refers  it  to  the  seventh  century  of  our  era,  and 
the  evidence  adduced  by  Takakusu  of  Tokyo  may  prove  it  to  be  considerably  earlier. 

In  the  preparation  of  his  translation,  Dr.  Woods  has  had  the  benefit  of  Deussen’s  criticism ; 
and  he  has  revised  his  work  under  the  oversight  of  Gangadhara  Shastrin  and  of  his  pupils  in 
Benares;  and  he  has  constantly  consulted  Vaehaspatimi<jra’s  sub-comment  on  the  Yoga-bha- 
shya,  and,  as  occasion  required,  the  Yoga-varttika  of  Vijnana-bhikshu  and  other  works  of 
more  modern  scholiasts.  It  is  hoped  that  this  work  will  throw  light  upon  the  early  history  of 
the  Maha-yana  school  of  Buddhism. 

The  Talavakara  or  Jaiminlya  Brahmana  of  the  Sama  Veda:  criti- 
cally edited  in  the  original  Sanskrit,  with  a translation  into  English,  by  Hanns 
Oertel,  Professor  of  Linguistics  and  Comparative  Philology  in  Yale  University. 

In  1877,  A.  C.  Burnell  brought  this  Brahmana  to  the  notice  of  European  scholars.  Soon  after, 
he  procured  manuscripts,  and  turned  them  over  to  Professor  Whitney.  With  the  aid  of  pupils, 
Whitney  made  a transliterated  copy  of  one,  and  himself  collated  the  copy  with  the  others. 
Since  1891,  off  and  on,  Oertel  has  been  at  work  upon  the  restoration  of  the  corrupt  text  of  this 
Brahmana,  and  has  published  considerable  parts  of  it  in  the  Journal  of  the  American  Oriental 
Society  (vol’s  xv.,  xvi.,  xviii.,  xix.,  xxiii.,  and  xxvi.)  and  elsewhere.  It  is  his  intention  to  add 
to  his  translation  systematic  references  to  the  parallel  passages  from  the  other  Brahmanas. 


Books  for  the  Study  of  Indo-Iranian  Languages 

(Sanskrit,  Prakrit,  Pali,  Avestan) 

Literatures,  Religions,  and  Antiquities 

Published  by  Messrs.  Ginn  & Company 

Boston,  New  York,  Chicago,  and  London 

Whitney’s  Sanskrit  Grammar.  A Sanskrit  Grammar,  including 
both  the  classical  language,  and  the  older  dialects,  of  Veda  and  Brahmana.  By 
William  Dwight  Whitney,  [late]  Professor  of  Sanskrit  and  Comparative  Phi- 
lology in  Yale  University.  Third  (reprinted  from  the  second,  revised  and  ex- 
tended) edition.  1896.  8vo.  xxvi-{-552  pages.  Cloth:  Mailing  price,  $3.20. 
Paper:  $2.90. 

Cappeller’s  Sanskrit-English  Dictionary.  A Sanskrit-English  Dic- 
tionary. Based  upon  the  St.  Petersburg  Lexicons.  By  Carl  Cappeller,  Professor 
at  the  University  of  Jena.  Royal  8vo.  Cloth,  viii  + 672  pages.  By  mail,  $6.25. 

Lanman’s  Sanskrit  Reader.  A Sanskrit  Reader:  with  Vocabulary 
and  Notes.  By  Charles  Rockwell  Lanman,  Professor  of  Sanskrit  in  Harvard 
University.  For  use  in  colleges  and  for  private  study.  Royal  8vo.  Complete: 
Text,  Notes,  and  Vocabulary,  xxiv  + 405  pages.  Cloth:  Mailing  price,  $2.00. 
Text  alone,  for  use  in  examinations,  106  pages.  Cloth:  Mailing  price,  85  cents. 
Notes  alone,  viii  + 109  pages.  Cloth:  Mailing  price,  85  cents. 

This  Reader  is  constructed  with  special  reference  to  the  needs  of  those  who  have  to  use  it  with- 
out a teacher.  The  text  is  in  Oriental  characters.  The  selections  are  from  the  Maha-bharata, 
Hitopade^a,  Katha-sarit-sagara,  Laws  of  Manu,  the  Rigveda,  the  Brahmanas,  and  the  Sutras. 
The  Sanskrit  words  of  the  Notes  and  Vocabulary  are  in  English  letters.  The  Notes  render 
ample  assistance  in  the  interpretation  of  difficult  passages. 

Sanskrit  Text  in  English  Letters.  Parts  of  Nala  and  Hitopadeya 
in  English  Letters.  Prepared  by  Charles  R.  Lanman.  Royal  8vo.  Paper,  vi  -f-  44 
pages.  Mailing  price,  30  cents. 

The  Sanskrit  text  of  the  first  forty-four  pages  of  Lanman’s  Reader,  reprinted  in  English  char- 
acters. 

Perry’s  Sanskrit  Primer.  A Sanskrit  Primer:  based  on  the  Leit- 
faden  fur  den  Elementarcursus  des  Sanskrit  of  Prof.  Georg  Buhler  of  Vienna. 
By  Edward  Delavan  Perry,  Professor  of  Greek  in  Columbia  University,  New 
York.  1885.  8vo.  xii-f  230  pages.  Mailing  price,  $1.60. 

1 7 ] 


Kaegi's  Rigveda.  The  Rigveda:the  Oldest  Literature  of  the  Indians. 
By  Adolf  Kaegi,  Professor  in  the  University  of  Zurich.  Authorized  translation 
[from  the  German],  with  additions  to  the  notes,  by  Robert  Arrowsmith,  Ph.D. 
1886.  8vo.  Cloth,  viii  + 198  pages.  Mailing  price,  $1.65. 

Hopkins’s  Religions  of  India.  The  Religions  of  India.  By  Edward 
Washburn  Hopkins,  Professor  of  Sanskrit  in  Yale  University.  1895.  12mo. 
Cloth,  xvi  + 612  pages.  Mailing  price,  $2.20. 

This  is  the  first  of  Professor  Morris  Jastrow’s  Series  of  Handbooks  on  the  History  of  Religions. 
The  book  gives  an  account  of  the  religions  of  India  in  the  chronological  order  of  their  devel- 
opment. Extracts  are  given  from  Vedic,  Brahmanie,  Jain,  Buddhistic,  and  later  sectarian  lit- 
eratures. 

Jackson’s  Avesta  Reader.  Avesta  Reader : First  Series.  Easier  texts, 
notes,  and  vocabulary.  By  A.  V.  Williams  Jackson.  1893.  8vo.  Cloth.  viii-fll2 
pages.  Mailing  price,  $1.85. 

The  selections  include  passages  from  Yasna,  Visparad,  Yashts,  and  Vendidad,  and  the  text 
is  based  on  Geldner’s  edition.  The  book  is  intended  for  beginners. 


PK2971  .H33  v.9 

The  little  clay  cart  (Mrcchakatika)  a 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 

III 

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